A Tale of Midgar
by Clement Rage
Summary: One of Corneo's thugs fights to survive in Midgar during FF7 as the Don's empire comes under atttack.
1. Recruitment

_This is a parallel to my other fic, Survivor, but you don't need to read that to make sense of this. What happens to the girl cycling to work is based on something that happened to somebody I know, although obviously without the revenge._

_Disclaimer: Do you really think I own FF7?_

**A Tale of Midgar**

Midgar. Home to twenty million souls, and even more people. The vast, gleaming city with its multiple reactors and towering skyscraper was effectively a showcase of Shinra's power, the entire creation screaming to the onlooker "Don't. Cross. Us."

Such philosophical insights were lost upon the girl cycling to work, her only concern being whether she was late or not. One of the few women with a reasonable wage in sector six who didn't work in the Honey Bee Inn or with Shinra, she didn't have any desire to lose her job. Thus she was extremely irritated when the SUV pulled into the cycle lane in front of her. She braked to avoid a collision, and was sent flying over the handlebars, landing well but tearing holes in knees and elbows before rolling upright. The bike-the quickest way to get to work if you couldn't afford to feed a chocobo, as a car was too wide for the shortcuts she used- hit the bumper, leaving a slight mark before falling over.

The car screeched to a halt and a blonde woman got out, her expression startled.

"It's alright I'm fi-" the girl began before being cut off by a furious "Did you damage my car?"

"_I'm fine, thank you for asking."_

"You did, look! Are you going to pay for that?" The driver pointed to a mark on the bumper.

"What? That's just tire rubber, look." The cyclist brushed the mark away, then knelt to examine the bike. The front wheel was bent, probably not beyond repair, but she'd have to carry it, and she was already late for work. She glanced up to see a fat kid in the passenger seat, maybe four, sticking his tongue out at her, and flipped a finger at him.

"Don't you do that to my son!" Thus followed a long rant about careless, despite the driver being the one who pulled into the cycle lane, before the former cyclist cut her off with a sudden, barked "What's your name?"

"Guinevere Winters, but-"

"-I'm late for work, I'll get back to you." The former cyclist walked away mid tirade, carrying the bike, fumbling in her pocket for her PHS. She made two calls. The first was to her employer , explaining her situation. The second was not.

-

Eric yawned. Standing in Vito Corneo's office, being introduced along with five other new guys, he wondered how long he'd have to do this for. He'd wanted to join the Shinra army, but had been unable to gain entry, so in the meantime, he'd gain some experience as an Enforcer for the Corneos. The wage wasn't spectacular, but there were a lot of perks, including free membership too the Honey Bee Inn and free meals at the local deli. He wasn't looking forward to the actual assault and murder part of the job, but at fifteen, he was still young, and after a few years, with a glowing endorsement from the Don, he could more or less do anything he wanted, if he survived that long. A few mysterious deaths were a small price to pay for that opportunity.

A phone rang on the Don's desk. He picked it up leaving the prospective employees to stew for an extra few minutes.

"Hello?...Uh-huh? Okay, Gwen Winters is a common name, she won't be hard to find. I'll see what I can do...No, it's fine, this is a perfect way to test out the newbies. Do you have the registration?" He took out a piece of paper and scrawled some numbers on it. "...Okay, okay. Gottit. ...800 gil. ...This isn't a negotiation, I have a business to run. Take it or leave it. ...You owe me a favour for this...Yes, I know what I said, but-...Goodbye, Alice. And pay more respect or I'll send some guys round to your door one of these days."

He hung up. Skotch poked an enquiring head into the office.

"Gwen Winters, smallish, blond, expensive car, reg SS 3962, young child. When you've found her, send one of these guys. Speaking of which, guys, get out of my office, I have work to do. Skotch'll tell you the rest."

-

Eric double checked the house number on the wall, then quietly opened the gate. With access to the Shinra database, Skotch had found the address of the target within ten minutes, and had given him instructions and a small bribe for the train guards. Upper sector six wasn't exactly mansions, but it was better than most in the slums. A small front garden, no guards, no dogs. Car parked in the drive. He checked the reg. It matched. According to Skotch, his target was the husband of a minor executive of a car company. The loss of her people carrier would sting, but she would not be left destitute. She'd remember what had happened earlier that day, and would perhaps pay slightly more respect in future. At least he hadn't been sent on an assassination on his first day. He didn't think he was ready for that yet.

Taking the Molotov out of his pocket, he lit the end of the rag, smashed the car window, and tossed it into the front seat. The car alarm went off. He bolted for the gate, jumping over the wall just as the car owner appeared in the doorway bearing a shotgun. An ornamental Guard hound on one of the piers was blown to pieces by her first shot. Cowering behind the front wall, Eric cursed his cockiness and lit his second Molotov. Guinevere saw the flames rising from the car and screamed, another shot taking a chunk off the top of the wall above his head. He tossed the Molotov over the wall-it was hit by a bullet in mid-air, showering him in burning liquid and glass shards. He screamed, and resolved not to do that again. His target was quite an accomplished shot, it seemed. He felt another shot hitting the wall behind his back. He wondered how long he could stay here. In the slums, gunshots might go unheeded, but that wasn't the case on the plate. A Shinra patrol would be coming this way. But then came salvation.

He firmly believed that had Sector 1. Reactor been less timely in its explosion, he would have died there and then. But the reactor exploded precisely when he needed it to, providing both a diversion in the gun toting car owner's attention and causing the instant power cuts to every Mako powered device in the city –including the streetlights, which allowed him to lose himself in the darkness when his attacker –technically, aggressive defender- returned her attention to shooting at him, but now with nothing to aim at. As he ran, he heard a smaller explosion behind, and had the comfort of knowing that at least he'd successfully destroyed the car. He wondered briefly what his target had done, then wondered what the Don would do when he got back.

-

"Congratulations, kid! I didn't think you'd make it when the reactor blew!" Kotch told him, buzzing him through the security door with a friendly punch in the shoulder.

"I was lucky."

"Of course. You couldn't have gotten through the Shinra crackdown on skill. Go on up, he's expecting you."

Ascending the stairs, he parted the curtain to the Don's office to find the man himself in residence, smiling broadly.

"Still alive, I see. But you got yourself hurt? Black mark right there. What happened?"

Eric gave a more or less accurate account of what happened. The Don arched an eyebrow.

"Shotgun? And you got away? Lucky, but still...Here, you can't expect a reactor to explode every time you need a getaway. Catch." Reaching into a drawer in his desk, Corneo drew out a low calibre handgun and tossed it to him. Catching it somewhat nervously, Eric examined it.

"Get Botch to give you some lessons. Oh, and here's a token of your first success as a Corneo enforcer." A piece of paper followed the gun, following which he was dismissed into the guard room with the rest of the enforcers.

"He seems to be in a good mood." he noted cautiously, not wanting to anger his boss if anything got back to him.

"Of course" Brotch told him happily, "There was a terrorist attack on Shinra today. Which means that we'll receive a generous payment to find them."

"I see."

"By the way, what'd he give you?" As they hooted over the gun, he glanced at the slip of paper.

_Coupon for one free private session_

_at the Honey Bee Inn_

Interesting.

* * *

SS registration means Sector six, by the way. In the game, Corneo's officers were Kotch and Skotch. I added two extra, Botch and Brotch. 


	2. First Assignment

_The first scene doesn't feel right for some reason, but I had to get him into the HBI and this was the handiest way. Enjoy._

**Assassination**

The Don decided to celebrate his newest member's successful mission by giving him the opportunity to use his coupon at the earliest opportunity –ie. holding a massive orgy at the Honey Bee Inn. Then again, most situations, up to and including boredom, triggered the Don to go to the Inn. Still recovering from 2nd degree burns, Eric didn't think he was up for it yet, but couldn't think of a way to refuse. Thus he found himself alone in a cubicle with an extremely young girl, wondering if he'd last his hour session without her aggravating his burns and sending out audible screams into the main building, which wouldn't give the best impression to the rest of the gang.

"Hi." she said told him, leaning back on the bunk.

"Ummm...hi. What age are you?"

"Fourteen. Why?"

"_Fourteen?_ Working in a brothel?"

"The Inn caters to everyone. We've been known to bring in dead Chocobos for clients with...unique tastes."

"...Ew. Are you sure you're old enough for your work?"

"Are you old enough to kill people?"

"I haven't killed anyone."

"Yet."

"Anyway, the Don selected me personally for you, so I must be fairly close to you. What age are you?"

"...Fifteen."

"Close enough, then. So..."

"Umm...look, I'll be honest, I'm recovering from serious burns here..."

"...But you don't think it's smart to refuse the Don?"

"Yep." He showed her the scars. She winced, but probably just because they were trained to agree with customers.

"Ok. Works for me. Just means I have to work less."

An explosion, then gunshots, came from outside. A machine gun, something that none of Corneo's were equipped with. Drawing his gun, he ran out of the cubicle. He wasn't much good with it yet, so hopefully it wouldn't come to a fight.

In the entrance hall of the Inn, six Shinra soldiers were standing in battle positions. There were bullet holes in the front wall, and the leading soldier had the Don pressed to one of them so he could see out.

"-track him?" the leader was saying.

"Yep. That gun arm is pretty distinctive. Brotch?"

"Yeah?"

"Tail the bruiser after he leaves."

"Gotcha."

"Will you let go of me n –who is she?

The soldier paused but didn't reply, releasing the Don after Brotch left. Don promptly drew a sub machine gun and cocked it under the soldier's ribs.

"Look down." the Don told him, grinning.

His target turned slowly, a handgun magically appearing in his hand, somehow having taken from Corneo's other holster without the man noticing. All around the room, people cocked weapons.

"Look down further." 

By now, the entrance hall was full of Corneo's enforcers. One misstep would lead to a massacre.

"Wutaien standoff, fellas!" Botch yelled gleefully

"You won't kill me. The Shinra need me." But the Don was visibly nervous.

"True. But you can still serve Shinra minus an...appendage or two." The soldier lowered his aim.

That hit the mark. The Don went white. Tension grew. Then a woman emerged from a cubicle behind the Don and wrapped her arms around his neck. The little visible of the Shinra soldier's face suggested he was trying not to laugh. 

Corneo struggled manfully to keep his focus, but it was always a losing battle. The woman wrapped around him was one of the Inns most senior employees. It wasn't long before, against his will, the gun barrel dipped slightly. The Shinra saw it, and an armoured fist sent the Don flying into the woman behind him. She was tall, and as such avoided getting a broken nose from the impact of his head snapping back, hitting her chin instead, but the Don was a heavy man, and he landed on her as they both fell backwards, knocking the unfortunate woman cold. Cushioned by her body, the Don regained consciousness quickly, but the Soldiers were long gone by the time the lackeys started firing.

The Don sat up. "Botch?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get their serial numbers?"

"I got the leader's-the rest's shouldn't be hard to find."

"Good. I want those men killed."

* * *

Of course, it wasn't quite as easy as that. As powerful as he was over the slums, the unsanctioned murder of Shinra employees was not something that could be done with impunity by any of Midgar's resident crime families, but especially the Don's, due to his unique situation.

There were four major non-Shinra gangs in Midgar. There had once been nine, but two had been brought down by inter gang wars, and two were mercilessly obliterated by Shinra after they overstepped their boundaries. What had happened to the final gang was now a Midgar slums legend. The gang had been the major traders of illegal drugs in the city, but their leader was imprisoned after the Turks brought down a major deal. Imprisoned, the leader became good with a guitar and, upon his release, launched his hit single _I shot a man named Reno/Just to watch him die. _It was an instant bestseller among everyone who hated the Turks (ie. almost everyone) and rendered an obscene profit to its writer, who then went legitimately into the music business and brought his gang with him. They all became obscenely rich, leaving behind a major vacuum in the less profitable drug smuggling niche, which had yet to be filled three years later.

But that was beside the point. Including the Corneos, there were four major gangs in Midgar. The Fujeo controlled the densely populated lower Sectors 3 and 4. The Fujeo were the most numerous of the gangs, but also financially the weakest. Their major money spinner was extortion, but because the sectors they controlled were so poor, it didn't have much of a yield. But there were far more Fujeos than any other gang, and they could afford to lose a dozen enforcers to take over a minor money spinner from the others and still consider it a victory. There were far too many people in the slums they controlled than was healthy, and they were desperate to expand their territory to alleviate the strain. They were a direct threat to the Corneos, held in check by Shinra.

The Massacci were the richest of the gangs, as they controlled the lucrative real estate market in Upper Sector Eight., running protection for the businesses and residences there. Upper Sector Eight was where the rich people who didn't have mansions lived, who could afford to pay large protection deals. They controlled Upper Sector Two as well, but that wasn't so profitable. What the Massacci didn't have were many gifted enforcers. As The Plate was heavily patrolled by Shinra, they didn't need too many. When they needed Enforcers they usually hired them from the other gangs.

The Samazi were firmly entrenched in Upper Sector Five, where Scarlet's manufactories were. Unlike the other gangs, they controlled just one sector, but they could not be dug out. Led by a renegade Shinra soldier, all the clan enforcers were well equipped with refuse from the factories, and the gang controlled the non-Shinra weapons trade in Midgar with an iron grip. Aside from that, they made their money by hiring out their enforcers to whoever needed them; usually the Massacci, but they'd take any contract. They were the best enforcers in the city –even Shinra had been known to hire them on occasion. The clan stayed based in their territory, and refused to spread out and dilute their forces. They never made a move towards an opposing clan, but if you attacked their territory, you would lose your invasion force to the last man.

Lower sectors five, six, and seven belonged to the Corneos. They were slums, but a few high earning businesses kept them afloat. The Honey Bee Inn, of course, had a huge annual turnover, as did the Boutique nearby (even Scarlet bought her dresses there), and Tifa's Seventh Heaven was widely considered one of the best establishments in the slums, rivaling even some of the high class restaurants and bars on the Plate who could afford to import high quality ingredients from Icicle or Wutai. The Don controlled more land than the other clans, so his enforcers were thinly spread, leaving him vulnerable. Realising this, he'd kept himself and his empire intact by making sure he was useful to the Shinra, getting them the information that they wouldn't find out otherwise and occasionally facilitating a murder that the Shinra didn't want directly connected with them. In exchange, they protected him from the other families and kept his rivals from expanding their territories. Murdering their employees would jeopardize this connection and put him at risk. So he had to be careful.

First, he filed a protest towards Heidegger demanding the execution of the six soldiers. This failed, as he had known it would –Heidegger did not want it to seem as though the Shinra were at the beck and call of criminals. But, after a few hours of negotiations, they struck a deal. Shinra would not investigate six mysterious deaths if the Don got them a location for the base of AVALANCHE. This was a waste of a valuable bargaining chip, but Heidegger made it clear that if it was refused he'd take the commission to Corneo's rivals. Thus a deal was struck.

It was a busy day for the Corneos in general. Brotch had successfully tracked Gun-Arm to Sector Seven, but he'd then lost him. Corneo passed this along to Heidegger, then sent Brotch back to narrow down the search. He did not return. Heidegger said that this was irrelevant, and mentioned to the Don in passing that he might want to move his assets out of the sector. The Don recalled his employees in Sector 7, seriously scared by the implication. Brotch still couldn't be found.

The downside to this deal was that Corneo had to instrument the deaths of his targets, something that was not easily done. He took no chances, splitting his squads into two squads of fifteen for the six soldiers designating three targets for each. The normal accepted figure for a hit squad was three per target, so Eric thought he was being a tad over-cautious. Soldiers weren't allowed to bring their guns home, so it shouldn't be any tougher than usual, right? He also sent his least experienced, most disposable enforcers in each group, which was why Eric found himself on one of the hit squads. He was cannon fodder, expected to die in place of anyone valuable. Botch, who was leading the squad, gave him some basic instruction with his gun until he could usually hit what he was aiming at a reasonable distance, but was advised that it was very different when shooting at somebody attacking you. All in all, it wasn't very encouraging.

Heidegger had said that an investigation wouldn't be launched, but that wouldn't do much good if they were caught in the act, so they split up on the train so as not to be noticed. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have been necessary, but there'd been a crackdown by Shinra after the two reactors were blown up. So Eric was left in a seat on his own, examining the gun he'd been issued and wondering if it'd do him any good. The three targets lived in lower sector 1, which wasn't part of any major gang's territory, but any unclaimed territory was effectively No-Man's Land for any gang affiliated entity. There were minor gangs everywhere in the city, as well as independent groups like AVALANCHE, that weren't powerful enough to challenge the major gangs but could nevertheless defend their territory against a perceived incursion. And there was always Shinra.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a voice over the carriage speakers.

"Would the gentleman in Car 4 who is pretending to examine his gun but is actually staring at that woman's chest please stop? You are fooling no-one, you filthy pervert." He glanced around the carriage and located a sign showing that he was in car 4, and a quick glance around ascertained that no-one else was holding a gun. He was also getting disapproving looks from other passengers. He sighed.

"Y'know, if you're going to do this every time I get on a train, you're eventually going to be fired" he said aloud, to empty air. There was a pause, then "Yeah, probably. But you make such an easy target, I can never resist" came out over the speakers. The other passengers relaxed.

_Hmph...this's what I get for being friendly with a train guard..._

A short time later, the guard at the end of the car strolled over. 

"Sorry about that. Can't help it."

"You_ are_ going to be fired eventually if you keep doing that, you know."

She smiled behind her mask. "Well, I'll just have to scrounge off you until I get re hired, then, since it's your entire fault. Judging by the way you were making sure I noticed the gun, I take it you got the job? What's the wage like?"

"Not as good as a Shinra appointment. Most of the wage comes as perks. And, for the record, I didn't even notice you were on this car."

"Odd coincidence. Anyway, I'm going to have to take that –new regs after AVALANCHE attacked. You'll get it back when you leave the train."

"I'm on an assignment, so you'd better give it back!"

"Don't worry, theft _would_ get me fired. You'll have to show me what you can do some day I'm not working. Good luck with whatever you're doing." He handed over the weapon and she returned to her post, slightly disappointed at the lack of resistance.

The I.D. scanner filled the carriage with flashing red light, and there was the usual rush of discovered people trying to avoid the lockdown. Having both a ticket and a legitimate I.D. supplied by the Don, he didn't have to worry about the scanner, but there were always a few opportunistic muggers who wanted to take advantage of the confusion. On this occasion, he was left unscathed, and shortly afterwards they arrived at Sector 1. station.

Lower Sector 1 was a run down but fairly safe area, but the recent attack on the reactor left security systems vulnerable. The area was no longer completely without electricity –ever conscious of loss of revenue, Shinra had rerouted surplus from the other reactors through the reactorless areas- but the emergency measures could not supply the same level of power as a fully functional reactor, and the street lights were less bright than was usual. This gave opportunities for ambushes, but no mugger would tangle with a party of fifteen men with guns, so they reached their first target house unchallenged. Just short of it, Botch, who was leading the group, paused for some final advice.

"Okay guys, listen up. Shinra soldiers aren't allowed bring their weapons home, but they are allowed bring their armour, and a lot of them have private sidearms for home use. This isn't a time for mercy. Shoot to kill, and make sure that you hit your target. If we have to fight, some of us are going to die, so they have to be dead before they know we're here. They don't know we're coming, but they'll be suspicious that Shinra released them unpunished so they might be on the alert. Be careful, and try to stay alive. Let's move."

They stalked up to the house. There was an upstairs light on, but no other signs of life. Molotovs thrown through downstairs windows soon had the place in flames, and as the house's occupant ran out the front gate to escape from the blaze he was ambushed from both sides and behind by all fifteen assassins shooting to kill. He never had a chance, and the only injuries for the assassins were flesh wounds from accidentally shooting each other. Reloading, the assassins fled before the fire brigade arrived.

They had expected the kill to come at a price, and the unexpected bloodlessness caught them by surprise. They began thinking that perhaps Shinra Grunts weren't as infallible as advertised, and laughed at the complacency of their first target in running blindly to his death. They became overconfident, which was not a good thing to be for assassins.

Their next target at first seemed to be even easier to achieve. The target's wife could be seen clearly from the road at the window, talking to her twin daughters. That might have been a contributing factor to what happened. Lechery rubbed off on you after a while in the Don's service. Instead of following the plan of burning the house and killing those who fled, Botch gestured to four men to follow him and disappeared into the house, leaving the rest standing guard outside. Shortly afterwards, a male scream was heard followed by a long symphony of female screams followed by gunshots.

It should be impossible to kill silently with a sledgehammer, but the angry Shinra Grunt managed three kills with one before Eric noticed the man beside him fall in his peripheral vision and half turned, so the hammer's head shattered his shoulder instead of his skull. He was knocked sideways by the force of the strike, his arm limp, instantly an incapacitating wound. His scream alerted the rest of the assassins up to then staring in fascination and envy (she had been beautiful) at the house, and they started to turn. Dropping the sledge, the Shinra soldier picked up the two guns of his rearmost kills in either hand and started shooting. In ordinary circumstances, he would have killed them all, but rage and grief damaged his aim and only three assassins were dead when the guns clicked empty. The three remaining assassins had by now turned and raised their guns, but the Shinra soldier took seven chest wounds without slowing. He cannoned into the foremost assassin, knocking him backwards into the other two, and all four of them fell to the ground. The Shinra rose first and rammed his foot into the throat of the nearest assassin, crushing it, while being fired on by the two others from the ground. Eric, semi-conscious, remembered what happened next with crystal clarity, as something he would associate with skilled fighters for the rest of his life. Still being fired on, the Shinra soldier hooked his foot under a gun on the ground and flicked it up, snagging it out of the air and firing down at the two assassins in the same movement. Both died. There was nothing showy or flashy about the flick, it was just that bending down would have given the two grounded assassins a better shot at his head.

The Shinra soldier had to have at least twenty bullets embedded in him at this stage, but when somebody started shooting at him from the house he was instantly crouching to reduce his ability to be targeted and firing back. Three shots later, the figure shooting at him collapsed backwards. Then Botch's voice floated out from the building. 

"If you don't stop shooting we'll kill your family."

"I heard you kill them!"

"We didn't shoot to kill. They're still alive, for the moment."

"Then have them talk to me. If they don't, I'm going to keep shooting."

"Go ahead. You won't be able to reach us. The house is in the way."

"Then I'll burn it down around you!" True to his word, the Shinra started picking up Molotovs and hurling them through the windows of his own house. Behind him, Eric rose to his knees, supporting himself on his good hand, fully expecting to be shot at any moment, but the soldier's attention was elsewhere. Staggering to his feet, Eric raised the weapon to point at the side of the soldier's head and slowly backed away, ready to shoot the instant he turned but not willing to shoot unprovoked knowing the consequences if he missed. Once he was well away, he had an instant of moral conflict

_Should I try the next target?_

It was quickly resolved.

_With one good arm? Forget it. I'm going back to Wall Market to report, get a legitimate excuse as to why my shoulder's shattered that doesn't involve assassination, get treated, then go home and hope that soldier doesn't come looking for me to get revenge._

Just to cap off a perfect day, he was in sector seven en route to Wall Market when the Plate collapsed on top of him. But on the plus side, he now had a perfectly good excuse as to why his shoulder was shattered.

Assuming he survived, of course. 


	3. Staff Turnover

_I think I might have to make this M rated before too much longer_

S**taff Turnover**

Had he been able to think beyond the web of white hot agony engulfing him, Eric would have realized he'd actually been incredibly lucky. After getting off the train in Sector seven, a shoelace tied tight around his mangled arm to stop him bleeding to death, he'd been almost at the edge of the district when the plate started to fall, and had started running towards the edge. A man height concrete pipe had landed between him and the edge of the district as he ran, and knowing seconds were valuable he had run straight into it, intending to emerge the other side and keep going. It was too late for that, and impacts from above had knocked him over as a steel girder had smashed through the top of the pipe just ahead of him. The rescue workers told him later that the other end of the girder had ended up pointing straight up, supporting a sheet of mythril at an angle that the rest of the debris had slid off, leaving a small area free of falling debris where a handful of survivors cowered.

Inside his pipe, covered in small wounds from shrapnel that nonetheless together with his earlier wound conspired to drain him rapidly of his blood reserves, his mood was not improved by a series of loud metal on metal clangs from ahead of him, accompanied by screams of anguish from survivors who'd gotten out in time and were hitting the edge of the debris in pointless fury. Something above his head gave an ominous groan, and the clangs stopped. They were succeeded a few seconds later by a burst of gunfire that ricocheted off various pieces of debris inside, their trajectories impossible to read in advance. One bullet hit the back of Eric's shin, at which point his body realized it hadn't enough blood to keep him conscious with an additional wound, and he promptly fell asleep. The last thing he heard was screams from other survivors, and his last thought was that at least there had been some survivors other than him.

He woke up in a bed, after operations, being subjected to the best care available, which terrified him. If he was needed that badly, the Corneos must be in serious difficulty to spend that much effort getting one inexperienced lackey back on the street. A team of doctors were working on him full time, which even the Corneos couldn't provide. A nurse later explained it to him, slightly nervously. Gang affiliated lackeys always were treated as quickly as possible, because they were assassination risks and as such, a threat to the other patients. So whenever a gang member was injured, they treated him to the best of their abilities to get him the hell out of their care before anyone found out he was there. But the Corneos had paid a substantial amount to get him back on his feet as well, so mere hours afterwards, he was kicked out of the treatment centre and was heading back to Wall Market with a fully working arm, although he had been cautioned to rest it as much as he could. Which, given how badly he was needed, he suspected wasn't much.

H returned to a headquarters in turmoil, with everyone in a panic. It took him some time to get a coherent account of what was going on, from somebody who recognized him as a member of one of the other hit squads.

"Hey, kid! Still alive, I see? And unhurt?"

"My shoulder was shattered by a sledge hammer, but I was treated." That got a wince

"So how'd your squad get on?"

"One target kill, three spectator kills, ten confirmed deaths. You?"

"No target kills, three arsons, four deaths, several wounded. The first two houses were empty, they knew we were coming. The last guy was waiting for us. We decided he wasn't worth it after the fourth death."

"What's going on here?"

"Nobody knows. The Donn had his usual three girls, right? One of em was Tifa, so he had all his favorites in house."

"_Tifa? _As in Lockheart?"

"Seems like it."

Tifa had long been one of the Don's most wanted girls. She'd also been the reason he had no longer as powerful a grip on sector 7 as he did on sector 5. When she'd first arrived in Midgar, she'd negotiated a reasonable cut for him, wanting to avoid trouble. Ignoring hints, offers, and threats regarding how much easier life would be if she was one of his girls, she set up a business that quickly became one of the most successful in the city, known for friendly, efficient service and high quality food. The Don had gotten greedy and careless. He'd seen a beautiful woman running a business by herself. Vulnerable. If he took it over he'd get more than just a cut.

What followed was the biggest embarrassment to the Corneo family since he'd first set up his empire. Two enforcers dead, five critical, and eleven –eleven- in hospital with broken ribs, limbs, noses or jaws. And that was Tifa's personal tally- her loyal patrons had brought down even more. Corneo had lost his control over the sector –her patrons were now more loyal to her than him. He had kept a token presence in Sector 7, as a reminder, but had backed down, reasoning that a cut of a successful business was better than none. Tifa had been smart enough to continue sending him a cut of her profits, so an uneasy truce had developed. She didn't need his financial help, and could fight back if threatened. So if she wanted to be one of his girls it meant she wanted something from him.

The other enforcer nodded, seeing from his face what he was thinking.

"But you know the Don. He doesn't think when confronted by somebody like her. So he kept his favourite seven enforcers, right, and sent the rest of us home, or on errands like our hopeless assassination attempts. So he got another two girls, right, but it was always a foregone conclusion. It's rumoured that one of the others was a man so he wouldn't have to offend any of his other favourite girls, but that's not too likely.

"Anyway, y'know his manor is soundproofed, right? So all we know is that half an hour later a call comes through to the Honey Bee Inn asking for two more girls. So they go in, and they leave the security door open behind them. None of the other guys are called to investigate, right, so we think he's just evening the odds between the seven of them. Next thing we know, one of the Shinra soldiers we tried to assassinate walks into Honeybee Manor, through the now open security door. Now the rest of the guys are worried, but by the time we've organised to go in after him, Sector Seven pillar collapses, and we're too disoriented. When we do go in, we find Skotch and a bunch of enforcers dead, Kotch tied to the table in the torture room, two hysterical girls sent by the Inn, Tifa and the two original girls disappeared, the Shinra soldier likewise, a mangled Aps, and blood on the Don's bed. Shinra found him floating face down in the sewers with a bullet wound in his head."

Eric sat down. This...couldn't be happening. It just...couldn't. He'd joined the Corneos because they seemed to be in an unassailable position of strength, and now...boss dead, at least one and probably two of the officers dead-Brotch had never returned from Sector 7 –he had to have died when the pillar came down. High ranked enforcers dead...and now he was likely to get embroiled in a vicious mob war with the other gangs. Three days ago he'd have been relatively safe, but now that he had a gang affiliation, there'd be people gunning for him that would've walked by just another slum kid.

_Fantastic timing. I really know how to pick my alliances, huh._

After a while, Kotch emerged from the Don's bedroom, speaking from the balcony, surrounded by his nearest ranked enforcers to the fifty or so enforcers in the room below-more were arriving all the time as word spread. And as the word spread, sooner or later it'd reach the other gangs in Midgar, who would see this as a golden opportunity to bring down the Corneos.

"You've heard, by now, I'm sure, what's happened. The Don is dead, murdered by one of the Shinra soldiers who he tried to assassinate earlier. Of one of those assassination teams we have _one_ survivor." Kotch pointed at Eric, who flinched at the attention.

"One of the Shinra soldiers they attacked brought down nine of our enforcers at once, wounded number ten, who managed to sneak away or he'd have died as well. The Shinra soldier then brought down one more of the team. Another of them was brought down with a bread knife by his wife. This is what happens when you catch a Shinra soldier_ by surprise_, when he has no weapons with him. Three other enforcers managed to escape, including Botch, but they were later found dead at the home of their next target, another Shinra soldier, skewered by a meat fork. The other assassination squad was lucky. They had only four deaths, and that was only because they decided they were attacking somebody out of their league and fled. One of the Don's assigned targets died. So, for eighteen casualties, we managed _one_ kill, plus a few arsons and a couple of innocent bystanders. The good news is that most of the bodies were either damaged by fire or sledgehammer-" everyone in the room winced "-strikes, so none of them were identified. The Shinra investigation can't lead to us."

"And then we have what happened here. I'm a little hazy on the details, but what we know is that Skotch and five of our highest ranked enforcers are dead, along with the Don and our Aps. And that a Shinra soldier probably did it. If he hadn't been more interested in the Don, I'd be dead too. So that's another six casualties. Plus Brotch. In one day. Do I need to stress the importance of not irritating Shinra at this point?"

Headshakes.

"And now there's the problem of the other gangs. The Fujeo need land, and we're the only option except Sector 2, which is an absolute quagmire of factions since the Giottians dissolved, so they aren't going to want to move on them unless they have to. That leaves us. They've been held in check by Shinra so far. Our Shinra connections have died with the Don. They are going to move on us. We're better armed, but heavily outnumbered. At our peak, we had one hundred and fifty enforcers. We've lost...eighteen plus six is twenty four...plus one is twenty five. We now have one hundred and twenty five enforcers, and if Heidegger hadn't warned us about sector seven we'd have less. Between them, two pissed Shinra soldiers cost us a sixth of our manpower. But I was talking about the Fujeo. We have one hundred and twenty five enforcers, including me. The Fujeo have one thousand enforcers-" jaws dropped "-in each sector. Not counting civilians they can bring in in an emergency."

That news didn't go down too well, and the room erupted in panic. Kotch managed to restore order only by firing rounds into the ceiling.

"We are not dead yet, people! And they actually did us a favour by killing the other three officers. If any of the others had survived, we would now be locked in a power struggle and even more vulnerable. Our one advantage is that we are not as vulnerable as they think we are. Weak as we are, we are at least united! And that they aren't expecting! So what we have to do is-"

Gunshots erupted across the balcony. Kotch hit the ground in time, but five standing next to him weren't quite as alert. The fifty or so enforcers in the room turned just as the assassin's clip clicked empty, and he was torn to pieces by at least thirty bullets. Ten of the Corneo ran outside, searching for other assassins, and a few bent down to the unfortunate assassin as Kotch picked himself up. One lackey kneeling next to the body looked up

"Fujeo. He's about nineteen, half starved. Looks like he only had the one magazine." "He came here to die?" Eric asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"No. I don't think he was expecting to run into the bulk of the Corneo clan's enforcers." This was Kotch.

"Poor kid" somebody said, unidentifiable in the mob.

"Yeah, if he hadn't just killed five of us I'd feel the same way" somebody else responded.

"Seven of us" corrected another lackey, entering from outside, "The two guarding the door are dead as well."

"One hundred and eighteen enforcers..." Kotch said softly from his balcony. He collected himself. "Assassination squad survivors, the Don's –I mean, my office, right now."

The twelve survivors from the thirty trooped upstairs numbly, aware that they'd be thinned further before long.

"We have to hit back..." Kotch said, pacing back and forth behind the Don's desk. The

Don had never done that. "If we cut our losses and be defensive, they'll smell blood and hit us with everything they have. And we won't survive it. The fall of the pillar might disorient them for a while, but sooner or later they'll be here. That assassin was a test, to see how we reacted, whether we called down Shinra on them or not. We can't do that anymore, but they don't know it for certain. We have to hit back, show them we can still defend ourselves, give ourselves some breathing space to get back on our feet from our losses. That's where you come in, folks."

Kotch paused. He looked to Eric.

"You. You are the only survivor of our first assassination squad, correct?"

"...Y-Yes."

"And you were found in sector seven after the pillar fell?"

"Yes."

"Your injuries sustained when the pillar came down?"

"Some of them."

"Did the target inflict some of them?"

"He hit me in the shoulder."

"Shattering it?"

"Yes."

"And, shoulder shattered and bleeding heavily, you took the train to sector seven with that wound?" His tone was a touch incredulous, and looking back, Eric couldn't blame him.

"Yes."

"Knowing that all the while you remained bleeding?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought you could give me an alibi or an alternate reason as to why I was injured."

"And then?"

"I could go and get treated, knowing that nobody would ask questions as to why I was wounded by a sledge the same night that a Shinra soldier was known to have fought off his would be assassins with one."

"But aware that you were life threateningly wounded?"

"It was a choice between certain death and possible death."

Kotch laughed. "Now that, gentlemen, is the kind of logic that sees you rise high in this business. It's also the kind of logic that sees you bleeding to death while waiting patiently in the ticket queue, but still...well done, kid! You're here two days and you've already been promoted. You're gonna lead the expedition to Fujeo territory. Good luck!"

It took incredible strength of will not to blow Kotch's head off at that moment.

Twenty minutes later, the expedition had run into difficulties. Lurking outside Sector 4 station, scared to progress any further, there was a frantic discussion as to what was to happen next.

Expeditions into enemy territory were always given specific objectives. Take over this business, assassinate that person, blow up this building. Kotch had told them to 'show them we can defend ourselves' and 'make some noise'. Some of them were having difficulty understanding what that meant. Gun down everyone in sight? Blow up some buildings? Do a synchronised break dancing routine with stereo accompaniment? Happily (or depressingly depending on your perspective) it wasn't long before the decision was taken away from them.

They'd been debating in shifts, with others watching the fringes. Now a group of ragged looking men with assorted weapons had circled them, and the debate was cut short. The Corneo spread out and cocked weapons. One of the Fujeo stepped forward.

"Are ye lost, fellas?" Eric, as the apparent leader, was the one to respond.

"Yeah. A Fujeo assassin killed a few of our guys. Can you direct us to where we go to to seek bloody revenge?" They were currently standing outside sector 4 station. Gunshots here would send out a Shinra task force, and the Fujeo would scatter. The Corneos would either be caught or picked off by the Fujeo as they scattered in their home ground. He had to stage his battle deeper in the district. The Fujeo leader blinked, surprised. He recovered quickly.

"Yeah, follow me." Some of the Corneo looked at each other. They hadn't been expecting that. But the Fujeo didn't want a battle this close to the station either. The two gangs trooped along together, a hair away from attacking, weapons ready.

After a time, Eric stopped. "This is far enough." The station was out of earshot, but still dimly visible, possible to navigate back to afterwards. The Fujeo, who had of course not once turned their backs on the other gang members, stopped too. The leader shrugged.

"Suit yourself, kid. Wanna make the first move?" Evan glanced around, assessing. There were about thirty Fujeo, not one of them with a manufactured weapon, which wasn't much of a comfort. Manufactured, designed weapons, were designed to be efficient. A sword, in the right circumstances, would always result in a clean kill. And there were formulas to deal with swords and guns, set methods of defending yourself. There was no set method of defending yourself from a broken bottle, a length of wood with nails hammered through it, or a sawn off barrel of a shotgun with barbed wire wrapped around the tip, as the three nearest Fujeo were armed with. Those weapons could mangle you without ever coming close to a kill. Far more terrifying than a sword or handgun. There was a long pause as he contemplated what to do next. One of underlings broke the impasse by firing at a Fujeo who was edging closer, and everything started happening very fast.

His first shot bounced off the shotgun barrel of the leader and inch above where his hands were placed –an awful shot at this range. Botch had been right –it was hard to shoot straight at someone trying to kill you. His peripheral vision saw the nail studded length of wood coming from his right, and he caught the end of it just below the nails and shoved it back into the face of its owner, who screamed and fell. The guy with the broken bottle was about to get a bullet in the skull when the scything legs of the previously downed attacker hit Eric in the back of the knees, sending him over backwards. His second attacker fell over on top of him, accidentally tightening his grip on the bottle in reflex to his fall. It shattered and shredded his hand, but he still got up faster than Eric and hit him hard, grounding him again just as he was about to rise. Eric rolled aside from a third attacker, but a trailing end of the barbed wire laid open his cheek. Finally successfully getting up, the guy with the bleeding hand almost grounded him again, but this time three point blank chest shots downed him. The leader swung again, and Eric's counter shot hit a section of barbed wire, snapping it at the point of impact and trailing the severed ends, making the weapon even more dangerous. Another swipe sliced down his forearm-he swapped hands with the gun and spun clear of the follow up, turning and sighting along the barrel to-

"Shinra!" someone shrieked over the sounds of the melee. "Shinra!"

Distracted, Evan glanced up. Red dots were moving in numbers off the sector four pillar top –Aero Combatants, Shinra's rapid response force. A heavy squad would not be far behind.

The Corneo scattered instantly, the Fujeo an instant behind. Corneo had driven into them the 'fear of Shinra' factor, because they so depended on the company to exist. The murder of the soldiers had had everyone petrified. But whether the head start would outweigh a knowledge of the area remained to be seen.

Speeding along the nearest alley, a Fujeo overtook him just as an Aero combatant buzzed down ahead of them. Raising a gun, presumably acquired from a fallen Corneo, the Fujeo fired. His target buzzed contemptuously aside from the wild shot, than whirred back in and attacked with his propeller, slashing a deep cut into the Fujeo's shoulder. While the Combatant was occupied, Eric bolted past him and kept running. There was a brick wall at the end of the alley, but he vaulted over it without breaking stride, finding himself at the end of another short alley, with another Aero Combatant at the mouth. Staying running directly at the Combatant at the mouth, he saw the face tense for battle, then veered off at the last instant, through somebody's back door, which thankfully, wasn't locked. He slammed the door behind him, just before a propeller crashed through it. Behind him, one of the Aero Combatants shouted "Mine!" and he heard a few footsteps as his pursuer neatly shelved his propellers to get in the door. Bursting out through the front door, another Aero Combatant descended on him from above, feet knocking him flat –the "Mine!" had been a trick. Rolling aside from the descending propeller, he scrambled upright, darting down the street he found himself on, picking random turns from the two irritated pursuers. Eventually, he picked another dead end, but with a door at the end of it, and he burst through this into a house slightly better decorated than most in the slums. Incredibly, he'd stretched a slight lead over his pursuers, and he used this to kick a stool through the nearest window of the kitchen he found himself in and duck under the table. The pursuing Aero Combatant buzzed out through the broken window, assuming he was after jumping through it, and Eric scrambled out back the way he'd come, searching for a sanctuary as he was beginning to tire. Seeing the sewer entrance in front of him, he prised off the cap just as the Aero Combatant buzzed around the corner of the house. There was only one –the second had found other things to do with his time. Sliding down the ladder, Evan found that the collapse of sector seven had left the sewage level higher than usual, and slogging through it would be hard work. But he doubted the Aero Combatant would follow him, given that the low ceiling would limit the advantage of his ability to fly. He was immediately proven wrong as said Aero Combatant shelved his propeller to fall through the manhole, redeploying before he hit the water.

"Persistant bastard!" Eric screamed over his shoulder, and kept running, the Aero Combatant skimming along above the water, the propeller occasionally striking sparks off the walls. He couldn't possibly stay ahead of him in the water. Only the narrowness of the tunnel allowed him to keep his lead, forcing the Combatant to concentrate to keep in the centre and slow down slightly. A steel grille crossed the passage ahead of him, knocked askew by the fall of the pillar. He was just about able get past by swimming under it, through the 'water', losing precious time and rendering his gun sodden and useless. His pursuer delivered one momentum enhanced kick to the grille, knocking it forward from its moorings, and kept coming.

The water level was lower here, and Eric was able to scramble up onto the bank, freeing himself of the toil of trying to run through knee deep sludge. The Aero Combatant had to keep in the centre to avoid damaging his rotor blade.

_If I can get into a smaller offshoot..._

Turning left into a slightly smaller tunnel, he almost ran into two Sahagin warriors, just managing to avoid a fatal thrust from a trident, one of the tines of which scored his side, sliding off the edge of a rib, as he ran past. A third Sahagin burst up from the water directly under the Aero Combantant, his trident thrust penetrating the armour, not seriously, but enough to draw blood. The startled paratrooper reacted savagely, delivering a series of stunning rotor blade slashes that chipped the Sahagin's shell until it sough the refuge of the water, reappearing a few seconds later behind the other two Sahagin, who turned towards the Combatant to protect their fellow.

Eric, still running, felt his boot slide on an unexpectedly smooth surface considerably higher than where the ground should have been and tumbled forward, losing his already almost useless gun in the fall. Only just remembering not to breathe in as his head was submerged, he sat up into a trident thrust, just barely catching the handle before he could be skewered, then pulling it forward to one side of his body and holding it in place with one hand while forcing the handle sideways and the Sahagin (who refused to let go) had its skull rammed into the side of the passage. Unfortunately, a small patch of moss cushioned the impact for the Sahagin, and it didn't let go of its trident. A botanist would have noted that this was a miracle, as no moss should be able to grow in the Mako drained Midgar Wasteland, but Eric was more conscious of the fact that he was running out of air and was forced to surface, still holding the end of the trident, forcing the Sahagin back and into the opposite wall. Its shell protected it from the impact, , and a ball of compressed water hit Eric in the face, knocking him over again, but maintaining his grip on the trident and finally accidentally tearing it free from the grasp of its owner and almost impaling himself in the process. Bereft of its weapon, the Sahagin instantly submerged, re emerging back down the tunnel where its fellows were gathered, facing down the Aero Combatant. A groggy Eric watched interestedly as he tried to recover his wits.

This was Eric's first introduction to Shinra military staff being fallible, capable of mistakes. The Aero Combatant hesitated, eyeing the four Sahagin and the lack of space in which he had to manoeuvre, trying to calculate his chances and not much liking what he saw. Slowly, he turned around and buzzed back the way he'd come. The four Sahagin, point made, made no move to follow.

Eric's howl of victory, however, attracted their attention, and they turned to regard him. By this point, he was nearing exhausted collapse, but he forced himself to start running one final time, trident in hand in case of ambush. At least Shinra sewer systems were navigable, with exits at regular intervals. He surfaced in sector five, and managed to hold off the inevitable collapse until he got back to Wall Market.


	4. Changes

I edited chapter three since I posted it, so if you haven't read the revised version before you start this (with the Fujeo sk

_I edited chapter three since I posted it, so if you haven't read the revised version before you start this (with the Fujeo skirmish) you should probably do it now._

**Changes**

Kotch had not been idle while Eric had been attacking Fujeo territory. Far from it. Since it was clear that HoneyBee Manor was no longer a secure enough base due to recent incursions, he'd cut a deal with the manager of the Honey Bee Inn to house them, in exchange for a generous rent and a commitment to hunt down the Maverick soldier who'd murdered the Don. He promoted some fresh officers to help him administrate over what remained of the Corneo empire, and had a cleaning crew remove the blood and corpses. He stationed thirty enforcers in the entrance hall at a time, so that any Fujeo reprisals would be met with a bloodbath, and slowly began relocating his assets to the HBI. He also increased the wage of his enforcers and started actively recruiting to build up their depleted numbers. The Don had initiated a recruitment freeze up to now, believing he had enough enforcers to keep himself operational and not wanting any extra cash wasted on unnecessary muscle. Eric's group had been a replacement for losses in a minor inter gang scuffle a few weeks before.

Kotch had also tentatively approached Shinra to see if he had any links left. The response had been an emphatic negative. But Heidegger, who liked to give the gangs an even playing field from time to time, had agreed to one final favour-that had been the Aero Combatant response to the attack on Fujeo territory. Three Corneo enforcers had been arrested, and eleven Fujeo. But the point was made. As far as the Fujeo knew, the Corneo still had Shinra favour. But, that had been Heidegger's final favour. From here, the Corneo were on their own.

There was really no place in all this activity for an exhausted junior enforcer, and once he woke up, Eric was sent home. Deciding he was hungry after all that running, he went to the deli instead.

He walked in to a (sarcastic) cheer as a few of his friends at a table in the corner recognized him, and decided that his newfound position gave them a perfect opportunity to mock him into oblivion. Ignoring them, Eric turned to the man behind the counter.

"Hey Jake, D'you've any vinegar? I'll order in a minute." A large bottle was tossed at his head-he caught it just before it broke his nose, then sat down and started pouring it onto his scars. Only when he'd finished did he look up at the other people around the table –Yvonne, the train guard, was there, as well as Damien and Aaron, and a bunch of other people he didn't know as well.

"Hi, folks."

"Hey. Got hurt already? Not doing great, are you? Shoot yourself already?"

"Come on, even you can tell that's not a bullet wound."

"Fine. Trip and cut yourself off a table already?"

"Actually, it was barbed wire. Being swung at me. On a pipe. In a melee."

"You are aware that I am contractually obliged to report your involvement in a melee to Shinra?"

"Oh, shut up. You're right, though. I better do likewise."

"Aw, are you sure? We were waiting with bated breath to hear tales of your prowess!"

"Hah! I'm sure."

"How'd you find it so far?"

"Not too bad. I got promoted to lead a -no, I'd better shut up."

"That's not fair. I always say what happens to me."

"Yeah, as a train guard. Unload cargo. Stare into space. Play cards. Stare-"

"You're just jealous I get paid more than you do for shooting people."

"You think? Well-"

"I hate interrupt your argument, before it enters into the usual random arguments nothing to do with the original one, but aren't we getting a little off track here? How's the thug business, Eric. Don't say anything we shouldn't know." This was Aaron, who tended to be blunt, but more focused than the others.

"Well...what do I say?"

"What're the other people like?"

"I don't know anyone that well yet, but it's hard to fit in. Everyone else either has a name like Dominic Fibonacci or 'Gasher' Jenkins." They all laughed. "I'm just 'Eric' or 'kid'."

"Eric the Kid? Not too intimidating."

"I know, I need a new name."

"Why not just say 'You can engage in that crap if you like, I don't need to advertise'?" This was Damien.

"Because I _do_ need to advertise. You have to build up a solid reputation first before you can stop being dramatic. So...new name. Suggestions?"

He should have expected this. Sensing entertainment, suggestions came thick and fast, from everyone within earshot.

"Lando Calrissian."

"Armand Tanzarian."

"Edmund Blackadder."

"Bob Terwillager."

"I don't want to breach copyright, people."

"Theodore E. Damascus."

"Tarquin van Treff."

"Tobias Macguffin."

He buried his head in his hands in disgust, much to the delight of the onlookers. When eventually everyone got bored, he emerged to find people actually seriously considering the question.

"Most gang names have an 'ee' sound to them" Yvonne was saying thoughtfully, when he dared to emerge. "At least the ones on gangster films -Jimmy, Paulie, Tony, Tommy, Mickey, Sonny. You need an 'ee' sounding name."

"Yeah, but if he wants to be an officer he needs the '-otch' sound" Damien argued. "Kotch, Skotch, Botch, Brotch. Was it coincidence that all the officer's names rhymed?"

"So what's left? Aotch Botch, Cotch, Dotch..."

"Crotch? Blotch?"

"No thank you!"

"Hmm...yeah...not great."

"How about 'Notch?'"

"Hmm..."

"Hmm..."

"Hmm..."

There was a long pause, and when Eric didn't raise any objection, Yvonne stood up and announced "Ladies and Gentlemen! May I present to you the newest member of the Corneo family, future Don of Midgar, 'Notch' McCarthy!" There was some applause, but a great deal more laughter.

"McCarthy?" the newly christened 'Notch' asked her.

"I wanted to work in the 'ee' sound" she deadpanned, "Now you're versatile, you can either be a lowranked enforcer or a Don without ever having to change your name. And once you start going down on the books for murders, the police will be looking for Notch McCarthy, not Eric Cavanagh."

"Thank you." He meant it. He'd get slagged beyond belief about this, but eventually even other Corneo enforcers would accept his new name.

He was just getting up to order when a panic stricken Corneo enforcer ran into the deli and slammed the door behind him.

"Fujeo!" he shrieked, "Fifty of them, heading straight for HoneyBee Manor." Eric dipped for his gun and succeeded on the third attempt, because he was trying to draw and keep his eyes on the door at the same time. The two of them lurked inside the door, glancing out as Fujeo after Fujeo passed.

_Is this a revenge strike? Then why aren't they burning Wall Market down around us? What's going on?_

Meanwhile, a single Fujeo, empty arms raised, had just walked in the front door of HoneyBee manor. The transition to the Inn was not yet complete, and Kotch was still in the Don's office, and clearly heard the Fujeo calling

"I want to speak to whoever is in charge."

Cautiously, Kotch emerged onto the balcony.

"Who are you?"

"Gara Fujeo."

There were some audible gasps at the use of the family name. This was one of the Fujeo's eight highest ranked generals. That he was here involved incredible trust on behalf of the Fujeo, and eliminated any threat of a battle-they wouldn't risk him.

"What do you want?"

"Passage, for fifty of my family, through your territory. We're prepared to pay two thousand gil."

More gasps. For the Corneo, that was a moderate amount of cash, not excessive but not trifling. But it represented a massive chunk of the Fujeo's net liquid finances.

"Granted." It didn't take Kotch long to decide. The Fujeo were capable of sweeping them away on a whim.

"I thought so." Gara said, grinning. Outside, Fujeo started filtering through and veering off to the right of HoneyBee manor.

"What are you planning?"

"Watch the news." the Fujeo replied, and followed his men.


	5. Kings of Midgar

_I forgot about this fic, so haven't updated in a while. Hope people are still reading?_

**Kings of Midgar**

After the Fujeo were gone, an unsettled Kotch returned to business. It appeared they had climbed up a wire to the plate, severing it behind them. That...didn't bode well, but clearly there was nothing the Corneos could do. The transition of headquarters to the Honey Bee Inn building was completed unhindered. Some of Wall Market's fit youngsters expressed an interest in joining the clan, beginning to heal the recent damages. Kotch applied for a replacement for the slain Aps, but Shinra didn't listen, pointing out that the Don had already bought the rights to the Hell House technology to protect his territory, and with the damage to the sewer system wrought by the Pillarfall(Already people were attaching capital letters to the catastrophe) any creature released ran the risk of escaping and causing havoc among the population. The Corneos were battered, but had begun to heal.

For 'Notch' (the name had already stuck, even if most of the other lackeys mostly used it to make fun of him), the chaos had brought him a dubious benefit. Expecting the expedition force to be slaughtered, Kotch had assigned his least valuable enforcers to the task, and, mildly impressed with Eric for escaping the vengeful soldier, had assigned him the officer. Now he'd survived, he couldn't be demoted without a reason. So Eric Cavanagh, not a week employed by the clan, was now a junior field officer. Very junior, true, but better than he could have hoped for. Maybe Yvonne had something with her '-otch' theory.

He wasn't entirely sure if it was really much of a blessing. He'd originally intended to be a low grade enforcer to get some combat experience and do something else in a few years. Now he was an officer, he might not be able to get away so easily-and if he got much higher ranked, he might need to fear assassination.

News broke later that day that the Maverick Shinra who'd killed Corneo had been snapped up by a Shinra patrol and sent to Fort Condor prison camp, where he would presumably be killed by the Condorians. There was just time for that to hit headlines before it was swallowed by the news that AVALANCHE had attacked Shinra Bldg. They'd gotten to the 67th floor before being nabbed by the security staff, and were currently in holding cells in HQ. That was huge news, and completely swallowed the little detail of a slight street skirmish in Upper Sector Eight.

00000

The full significance of this wasn't felt until the next day. 'Notch' was walking the streets of Wall Market, getting accustomed to his new duties and trying to see if anyone had stopped pronouncing the inverted commas around the name. It was too new for that, unfortunately, but people had begun to accept it. He was heading back to headquarters in the HBI when a neon sign exploded ten feet in front of him. Uncertain what was going on, he drew his gun and looked around wildly. A second rocket blasted a crater in the dust in front of him. Spinning, he saw a third and successfully blew it out of the air. Eyes plateward, he saw a flash of light and fired at it, but of course it was well out of his range. The gunshot brought people in a hurry-brought them running outside, into the danger.

"We're being bombed! Get inside!"

And most of them did. But Kotch, sensing an opportunity to win favour with the masses, sent them right back out again to get everyone off the streets. They obliged, but it was more difficult in sector five, where the Corneo's weren't as strongly entrenched, and the piles of debris masked the rockets until they were close.

If you were alert, there wasn't that much danger. It took almost a minute for rockets to travel from the lower plate down to the slums, usually more than enough time to get out of the way. The lasers that followed were quicker, but didn't do as much damage. Nevetheless, Notch saw an enforcer under his command have his arm taken off from the shoulder by a rocket no one had seen until it was too late. Whoever was doing the bombing didn't dare bomb the HBI, as Shinra employees sometimes frequented the place, and if Heidegger or President Shinra was killed by a rocket there'd be hell to pay. But, by the time the bombing was over, there had been thousands of gil's worth of property damage across the two surviving sectors of Corneo territory. Four enforcers and two civilians had been killed, as well as a number of wounded. For the next two days, there was a potshot now and then, but nothing like the first bombardment.

As many of the power lines had been taken down, it wasn't until later that the Corneos discovered what had happened. The Fujeo, having found out somehow that AVALANCHE had gained entry to the plate via a wire in Corneo territory, had sent an expedition to the plate, knowing that the other gangs would assume they were simply taking advantage of the Corneo's weakened state. Having gained access to the plate, they'd seized several of the Massacci's most profitable rackets –apartment buildings, casinos, warehouses- and held them. After the initial street skirmish, Shinra patrols had intensified., preventing any attempt to recapture. The Massacci had completely panicked, and taken the only option open to them. They had bought huge quantities of weapons from the Samazi and pounded the slums, hoping to kill so many people that the Fujeo on the plate would surrender. The bombing in Corneo territory had been nothing compared to that endured by the Fujeos. They'd had to deal with military standard air to surface weaponry and anti-bunker warheads, as well as fire and cluster bombs. Everything the Massacci could find, they used to raze Fujeo territory to the ground. Most of the people, happily, were under said ground, and there were only about thirty casualties, Fujeo leaders having foreseen some form of reprisal. But their infrastructure was gutted.

The Massacci weren't having it entirely their own way. Heavy Shinra patrolling meant that they usually had to leave their heavy weapons behind, meaning they had to buy more for their next attack-expensive in the long term. Meanwhile, the Fujeo milked their new businesses for as much money as they could. Intending to completely bleed them dry, they actually ended up charging fifteen percent less than the Massacci rate.

The standoff couldn't last. Military might not availing them, the Massacci adopted a weapon they were more used to –money- and bought back their businesses. The Fujeo returned to the slums, with several times their previous net worth in cash and one Dragonfly helicopter more than they'd had before the Pillarfall.

It had been a masterstroke of opportunism. The Massacci had long been unassailable due to a computer hacker who had broken five levels of encryption some eighteen years earlier and gotten into the Shinra train network ID scans. He'd sold it to the Massacci for 200 grand, and soon became one of their highest officers. Whenever other gang members entered the train system, the Massacci tagged them, and whenever one made a move towards Massacci territory a welcoming committee could be prepared with plenty of advance warning. The Massacci spike had led directly to the fall of one of the old gangs in Midgar.

The Fujeo had seized a once off opportunity to circumvent the Massacci first line of defense. It wouldn't happen again. But now, the longstanding Kings of Midgar had been challenged. They would not take such a threat lightly. Life for the gangs in Midgar had just been seriously destabilised. It would get more...interesting...from here.


	6. Flight of the Corneo

_This chapter hasn't much to do with the main story arc, but I wanted to do it, so..._

_**Flight of the Corneo**_

Heidegger's office was not a place designed to put one at his ease. A stark, bare room with a simple wooden desk and chairs, the place had no ornamentation whatsoever. A small, high window let in some light, but the reinforced rocket proof glass it contained prevented anything else from getting in. Aside from this, the only things of note were the large screen behind the desk, where the latest gang events were currently being observed, and heavy steel doors that sealed in anyone who entered, operable only from a hidden switch in the desk.

Display finished, the screen went blank. Heidegger looked up at the man seated in front of him.

"Your thoughts?"

Ex-Don Vito Corneo stirred uneasily. His life might depend on what he said next, he knew.

"The...situation has just gotten...dangerous, unstable. A major skirmish on the plate isn't good for you, you know that. I can settle things down, you know that, if you reinstate me. The Corneos will be untouchable, and then the Fujeos and Massacci won't want to weaken themselves in case I try something. It wouldn't have happened if I was still in charge."

"Are you telling me how to do my job?"

"Of course not."

"I hope not. And, you couldn't have stopped this. When the pillar came down, it disrupted the infrastructure. The sewers were never exemplary in Fujeo territory to begin with, but when the pillar came down, they were obliterated. Knowing they were facing an epidemic if something wasn't done quickly, and that they needed cash, the Fujeo leaders carried out a little mission to get some. And, you must admit, it worked beautifully."

"You're well informed."

"I'm the head of public safety, I need to be. So, Don, the question arises...where do I need you in all this? You've proven yourself unreliable by leaking that secret. Because of that, AVALANCHE contested the fall of the pillar, which led directly to the invasion of the Shinra building, culminating just recently in the unfortunate death of President Shinra. If I had any evidence other than a gut feeling that Sephiroth's miraculous re-appearance had anything to do with AVALANCHE being there, you'd be gutted like a fish already. I don't have time to waste on you."

"I can make sure things settle down in Midgar, so you don't have to be distracted."

"Kotch has proven an able Don so far -many families would have crumbled in his situation, but the Corneos have not. That alone is impressive."

"He is not safe yet."

"True...but things will settle down now. The Fujeo will not want to stir things up further, given the response they received."

"But the Corneos are criminally weak now. Without me, they won't last!"

Heidegger took a gun out of his desk and examined it, apparently finding it very interesting.

"The Corneos have been untouchable for far too long. It will do them good to see some conflict. The fact is, Vito, I don't need you, and you have been a liability of late. As for Kotch...if he lasts, perhaps I'll make him an offer. Guards!"

The doors hissed open behind Corneo. Composure broken, he sprang up, the tattered threadbare dressing gown he'd been found in fluttering with the movement.

"I tracked down AVALANCHE for you. Isn't that worth something?"

"Yes, Don. It's the reason I revived you after you were shot." The Don flinched, one hand flying up to the scar on his forehead. A phoenix down had revived him from the dead, but he'd never forget the feeling of the bullet entering his skull. "But that happened because six Shinra soldiers forced you to. You murdered one of them, killed and raped the family of another, and burned down the homes of most of the others. Because of our deal, I was unable to intervene, and when one of them took matters into his own hands, I had to send him to Fort Condor. And for what? A fat bloodthirsty lech who has been too powerful for too long. No, Don. Your time is up." Heidegger suddenly threw him the gun as the two soldiers stepped up behind him. "You'll be needing this."

* * *

And that was how the Don found himself in Hojo's private residence, in a sealed replica of the atrium of Nibel manor. A viewing window halfway up one wall held a handful of techs and a couple of 1st class SOLDIER acting as security staff. The Don, feeling very alone, was standing in front of the main doors, waiting for them to open, one hand clutched tight around Heidegger's gift.

A tech stepped up to the mike. "Experiment to test Marlboro's ability to sustain fire from concentrate Mako shells, attempt 4. Proceed."

The twin doors burst open, revealing a vast tentacled creature with huge jaws dominating its features. Having said that, it could move surprisingly quickly, slithering forward slimily and lashing out with a tentacle. Ducking, the Don fired off a shot. The explosion of fire did some damage, but the Marlboro shrugged it off, inhaling deeply. Having heard something of the creature's abilities, Corneo crouched and put his arms over his head as the poisonous, blinding, and generally disorientating gases hissed past. He was brought out of his defensive posture by blinding agony as a spray of acid hit his arm, dissolving the sleeve and causing searing pain within. Rising, he fired another three shots. Two entered the Malboro's jaws, dissolved by the virulent digestive acids therein before they could ignite. The third did little damage. But by this stage the Don was running. He'd almost made the stairs when a barbed tentacle sent him flying. Spitting blood, he made the stairs. Scrambling up to the first level, he was almost caught as a tentacle burst up through the floorboards beneath him. Firing a shot into the gap –this time it was a lightning bolt- he ascended the shorter flight of stairs as a spray of acid dissolved the floorboards around the gap.

"Everyone tries that, Don," a tech whispered with disgusting self satisfaction, "It doesn't work."

A section of stairwell collapsed as the Marlboro pulled at the supports.

Never having been to Shinra Manor, Don Corneo wasn't sure if the low hanging chandelier was supposed to be there, but it was just reachable from the stairs with a running leap –which he misjudged, crashing into said chandelier instead of landing safely atop it. Two of the chains holding it up snapped from the sudden imbalance of weight, but luckily, the Don was a heavy man, and his weight sent the chandelier crashing through the viewing window. By the time the two SOLDIERs and the techs were back on their feet, the Don was gone.

He got about a hundred yards before being stopped by a security system. The screen acted as a camera and an interface console, operating an independent machine gun and/or rocket launcher as the situation required. The Guard system had operated its machine gun at present.

"HALT!" the machine blared "DROP YOUR WEAPON!" The Don obliged, dropping the Mako handgun, but first palmed one of the steel cased shells behind his hand.

"APPROACH. SLOWLY." The machine's systems hadn't recognised him, and while it was running a recheck, it would bring him closer. At arms length, it ordered him to stop, and he discreetly dropped the Mako shell into the compartment below the machinegun.

"IDENTIFYING AS...VITO CORNEO, PAST CUSTOMER. STATE YOUR BUSI-"

The round ignited, setting off the rockets stored within. The machine gun was blasted free, and the Don snatched it up to use as his handheld weapon. Weaponless, the guard system could only blare its alarms. The Don looked up to move on.

"Corneo!"

He turned. A tech had caught up.

"Where's your bodyguards?"

"I wanted to bring you down myself."

"In other words, their shift ended. Damned unions, eh?"

"Laugh if you want, Don. It won't last."

The tech swiped his keycard through the sensor of a cubicle off the corridor, and what appeared to be a rotting, desiccated corpse staggered out, with what appeared to be a Sensor Cannon melded into one arm. A blast from it set Corneo on fire, but the undead were vulnerable to flames and three Mako shells brought it down. While the Don was rolling around trying to put himself out, the tech took something out of his jacket and smashed it off the ground, revealing two more monsters that attacked while the tech sprinted towards another cell. He almost made it, but the Don brought him down before he reached it. The two monsters dissolved as the tech hit the ground.

The Don collected his thoughts. He'd been challenged twice inside a hundred feet, and now every alarm in the compound was blaring. The security systems in Hojo's manor were legendary-he couldn't escape. At least, not on his own. But he'd been here before, and he knew where the docile specimens Hojo sold commercially were kept. Snatching up the fallen tech's keycard, he started running again.

Having found a side chamber, the Don examined the three cubicles within. The first one he came to was labelled 'Aps-Pest control'. He found himself feeling rather insulted. The Aps model that had been sold to him had originally been designed to keep down Sahagin numbers in sewer systems. It had failed him in his hour of need, too. He moved on.

The next cell was labelled 'Trapps-Domestic guard'. It was some sort of mutated guard hound-Cerberus grade, whatever that meant, and could turn opponents to statues. But it didn't have the mobility he needed.

The final cell was labelled 'Rapps-Mobile Bodyguard' He was leaning in to read the fine detail when his name was called yet again. Turning, he saw yet another of Hojo's researchers in the doorway.

"I'm going to enjoy this..." the researcher said, swiping his card through the Aps cell. The familiar creature lumbered out and slowly advanced. The Don smiled, and swiped his own card through the 'Rapps' cell. "So am I."

A winged snake emerged, and the researcher's face abruptly changed

"Nono, you can't-"

_Wrong! _the Don thought happily, as the Rapps tore the Aps apart with a single attack. The researcher lunged for the second cell, and the Don brought him down with a machine gun burst.

_Now...let's see what I can do with you... _"Rapps! Come here!"

The creature came obediently, and soon he was settled up behind the wing joint.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

"I'm impressed, Don," Heidegger noted, looking out at the city. "That was quite an escape. How far will you get, I wonder."

He dismissed the man who'd brought him the news with a wave of a hand and returned to his seat.

Few knew that Heidegger Vormund had once been an enforcer in the slums himself. He'd worked his way up to the right hand of the Don, who had then died (naturally). The gang had turned on him then, and he'd killed thirty seven enforcers personally. He'd then sold out the entire gang to Shinra, who had ground it to dust and enlisted Heidegger as an officer in the Shinra army. Even in his current position, he'd never forgotten his past, and took a hand in gang politics now and then, despite many thinking that anything that happened in the slums was beneath his notice. And he knew every implication of what could happen. If the Don returned, the gang war, just about to settle down, would revive, tying up more soldiers patrolling the streets that could be better employed elsewhere.

"Okay, Vito. You know I won't be happy, so you'll go to ground somewhere outside the city, somewhere outside of Shinra rule. I don't have time to hunt you down at present. But you had better keep out of my way." He crossed to the mike in his desk. "Alert all soldiers-Don Vito Corneo, formerly of Wall Market, is a fugitive. If he is seen by any Shinra military staff, they are authorised to kill."


	7. A Debt

**A Debt **

The Massacci were furious at the attack on their territory, but Heidegger had lost all patience with the gangs, and heavy patrolling prevented any further reprisals. Thus, life in the city began to return to normal. They would not forget the insult, but for now, there was little they could do. Similarly, the other gangs weren't willing to disturb the peace until they had fully recovered. Thus the conflict had died down.

The Massacci had also bombed Corneo territory, not bothering to distinguish between slum gangs. Actually, they'd blanket bombed most of the city under the plate-a serious mistake. Resentment among the slum dwellers citywide was growing, and support for both Fujeo and Corneo grew. The gangs themselves were knitted closer together by the mutual bombing-Kotch lent the Fujeo money to rebuild their infrastructure and foster goodwill. A plague of Sahagin, driven out of the sewers by rising water levels, afflicted slum dwellers all over the city, but thanks to the Massacci's new injection of cash, it was successfully contained, as well as the disease which accompanied it, until the sewers and general infrastructure were repaired- -and sometimes improved on what had been there. Kotch made up the shortfall, and in turn, the Fujeo supplied manpower to help him with his other projects. Relations were good, and the city recovered.

However good the infrastructure, it didn't solve the Fujeo's major problem-there were just too many people in their sectors. A portion of the money was allotted to relocating inhabitants to the neighbouring sector two with enough money to stay on their feet. They gave liberally to the original inhabitants too, of course, and the relocated peoples were usually accepted, with care. Of course, many of the relocated peoples still wanted Fujeo protection. The Giotttians, the gang that had previously occupied the sector, had dissolved themselves recently, leaving a quagmire of factions where many would fear to tread, but when they saw how well the Fujeo treated the population, most of them agreed to be assimilated, and those that didn't were quickly eradicated. The Fujeo had achieved an almost bloodless coup of a neighbouring sector, more or less instantly. The other gangs, including the Corneos, watched this development uneasily, but they weren't willing to ignite another conflict just yet. There were still too many people in the Fujeo territory, but the strain had been alleviated slightly.

Notch, meanwhile, was getting used to his new position as a junior field officer. It was a brilliant position to be in. Basically, all he had to do was relay the orders of his superiors to his underlings, and the thoughts of his underlings to his superiors. His stipend was higher than the standard grunt, too. Many in his position supplemented their income with private rackets, but he knew he hadn't the experience to pull off anything like that yet.

Having been promoted inside his first week, he naturally had to face some jealousy from common lackeys waiting in the wings for years, but he tried to compound the insult by recognising their greater experience and listening to advice, whether he took it or not. He didn't know how successful he was being, but at least he was still alive.

The internal duties of the enforcers were also fairly peaceful during this time. People handed over their protection money without fuss or fight. Life was reasonably easy.

News broke then that the maverick Shinra who'd murdered the Don had somehow survived Fort Condor extermination camp, and had been transferred to the Shinra military garrison in Junon, a free man. They found out as he'd been spotted by a HBI operative stationed there, who then tried to bring him down herself. It ended badly, and the HBI management now called in the second clause of Kotch's relocation deal. Meaning that he'd have to send a team to Junon, where the Corneos had few links. Thankfully, Notch was considered too inexperienced to be involved in the operation, so another squad was sent on what later proved to be a disastrous mission.

000

**Junon Town**

The first problem encountered by the squad was actually gaining access to Upper Junon. Although Rufus was on his way to Costa del Sol by now, the Guard had little inclination to let unknown thugs with shotguns access. This was a problem. They'd lose at least two or three trying to take her down, and any hope of a quiet entry would be dashed. The Guards were completely unbribable, if only because Shinra could outbid anyone else. Unfortunately, the officer in charge of the Corneos didn't know this, and offered what was a reasonable sum in the slums. The reaction he got could only be called emphatic.

"Ten gil? Ten fucking gil? Do you know how much I get paid for this? That's an insult to me! Get out of my sight, and when you come back, I want to see you offering at least a grand, do you hear me?"

"You'll regret this."

"Not nearly as much as you will, I think."

She was right.

_The next day..._

Having made a few calls the evening before, the enforcer approach with more confidence and feigned casualness.

"Hear there was a car accident up above...anyone you know?"

"My husband...what do you want?"

"What I wanted yesterday, darling. A way to the upper world."

"Make a call to whoever's in charge of you."

"What?"

She blew out his kneecap. He hit the ground, and she gave him her phone.

"I'm waiting..."

Dialling Kotch, the felled enforcer handed the phone to her.

"Hello?"

"That the guy who sent people to Junon plate?"

"Who are you?"

"The elevator guard. It'll be ten gil to go up, okay? But send someone else to pay it."

"I'll make sure you never see that idiot again" Kotch assured her, "This wasn't my idea."

"That won't be a problem" she replied, and fired again.

000

When the now leaderless squad reached upper Junon, they were told that their target had been transferred to Rufus Shinra's personal bodyguard and was currently on his way to the Gold Saucer, a continent away. This presented an entirely different problem.


	8. Conflict

**Conflict**

"What the hell were you thinking!? Organising a death in upper Junon that can be linked to me!? If the Shinra catch wind of it..."

"...You're too paranoid, Kotch. The Shinra won't lift a finger over one death." Niall Lee, CEO of the Honey Bee Inn, appeared totally relaxed, lounging back on the cushions that littered the ground of the entrance hall.

"You think so? You realise that AVALANCHE slipped through the gap you left, right? They won't take that lightly, not after what happened with the President."

"You know what your problem is, Kotch? That Maverick killed the Don, and beat you up. You're scared of him."

"Yeah? Maybe. Look, at the moment, the Maverick won't want to tangle with us, right? But if we push him too far, sooner or later he'll come gunning for us. The Don tried to kill him. He returned the favour. Leave it alone." Kotch was not about to reveal that the Don had come to him the evening before. He'd given him a retinue and got him out of the city as soon as he could, along with his new pet. He didn't know where they were going and didn't care, as long as it was far away. If the Shinra scented him, they'd eradicate the Corneos utterly.

"Leave it alone? The Don was half my annual income. He donated beyond his fee, tipped ludicrously generously, and brought a bunch of bodyguards with him at every visit! I can't just let that lie."

"Then _you_ do something about it. We've caught their attention too much as it is."

"Don't forget, Don, you're obligated to me."

"Withdraw your hospitality if you like. That was in the context of one Maverick, alone and friendless, on the run. _Not _one assigned to Rufus Shinra's bodyguard. You realise what will happen if Rufus interprets it as an attempt on _him?_"

"Don't underestimate me, Don."

Kotch tried not to laugh. "Sorry, buddy, but between the CEO of a slum brothel and that of a power company that effectively rules the world, I think I'm a bit more worried about the Shinra."

"A bullet from either does the same job."

"You want a war, then? Try. Go on, try. My enforcers versus yours. We could start a war right now, and, y'know, I'm not sure which way it'd go. But I'm _certain _whoever won wouldn't survive too long afterwards. Even if you survived, you'd be ruined, you'd lose your monopoly on the city's lechs."

"...Look, all I ask is that you keep your team on hand, follow the President, and if an opportunity arises, take it. I'll pay for your enforcer's transit; I'll make sure the paper trail leads to me, just help me out, ok?"

"...Ok. But if the Shinra come for me, I'll have nothing to lose by burning you to the ground. And I'd advise you –just friendly advice- to leave the maverick alone and cut your losses."

"Noted, but I'm not backing off."

"Well then...we'll see what happens."

The newly promoted head of the Junon team, now headed for the Gold Saucer, and arrived there too late. Rufus had already departed. He hadn't made it publicly known where he was headed, but somebody had let a careless word slip to a woman wrapped around them, and then they were headed to rocket town. HBI sources also reported that Palmer was accompanying the President, which meant something to do with the abandoned space program. So, to avoid suspicion, the Corneos were lurking in the cab of a supply truck for the rocket, genuinely loaded with rocket parts and half a dozen Corneo enforcers. The locals would assume the space program was restarting. The cab was rapidly filling with cigarette smoke, and the enforcers were getting pretty cold.

"C'mon, hurry up..," the team leader hissed, stamping his feet and waiting for some sign of life from the sleepy town.

"What're you planning to do, boss? Kill all the guards? Let's just hope we don't have to do anything."

"Shut up." They'd have liked to open the windows, but that left openings for the local wildlife, which otherwise were sealed outside the armoured truck.

"Done."

Time passed.

"Say, boss...what if we kill this guy? What then? We won't be able to outpace the other guards, will we?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? See that plane?" H e pointed to a red specimen in one of the houses backyards. "That belongs to Cid Highwind, best pilot in the business. We get our job done, we bring it. He keeps it in good condition. Once we get into the air, we're safe."

"Good plan, b-" the chatty enforcer cut off at raised voices from the town, but the words were too faint to discern. Then they became aware of other sounds...bestial snarls, the clash of steel, and (though they couldn't identify it) the heavy blast of a Mako gun. This continued for a while, and then, finally, engines. _Plane_ engines. The driver and boss hurriedly kicked the truck engines into life. Somebody in a brown coat was running from the scene.

"Who's that!?"

"He's not a redhead, who cares? We need that plane!" The truck surged forward. Browncoat, oblivious, kept running, truck engine drowned out by the plane.

Then they saw his face. And braked. Too late, sending the unfortunate man flying and almost turning over the truck in their haste. The people in the cab, petrified with terror, were frozen, only recovering as Rufus Shinra and bodyguards came running out the back of Cid Highwind's house.

The boss, suicidally, dipped for his gun. He fired off one shot, slicing across Rufus Shinra's upper arm and barely missing his target, the Maverick soldier. Then bullets came in the windscreen like rain and riddled him. The rest surrendered, but Rufus Shinra was in no mood for mercy.

And Midgar street thugs had just attempted to kill a Shinra Executive.

* * *

Andrew Palmer, head of Shinra's now redundant space program, sustained multiple broken ribs, skull fractures, nerve damage, and marginally sub lethal blood loss. Had he not been armoured at the time, and naturally padded besides, he would almost certainly have been killed. As such, Heidegger's public broadcast was, if nothing else, succinct.

"Yesterday, a Midgar street gang attempted to assassinate President Shinra. If I ever hear a whisper from any of them again, I will have _all _their major territories razed to the ground. That is all."

They were left under no illusions. Had Heidegger not had most of his soldiers committed at the time, or had the truck hit a more important executive, the Midgar slums would be in flames already. Which left Midgar City's resident crime families with no option but to sue for lasting peace, as opposed to the uneasy truce that currently existed.

The Samazi, who had no interest in expansion, were easy to secure guarantees from. Surprisingly, the Fujeo agreed almost as quickly. They had internal problems arising from the sudden surplus of cash, and the largest gang in Midgar was beginning to fragment as segments of it decided to sever ties and take control of a piece of territory where their money wasn't as thinly spread. Busy dealing with such problems, the Fujeo had no time for conflict.

Finally, there was the Massacci. They had least to

Don Massacci was the last of the old style, gentlemen gang bosses. Obviously, the Corneos weren't run by anyone bearing the name any more, nor were the Samazi. The Fujeos, living in squalor, hardly counted even at their strongest. The Massacci had a certain lazy arrogance that made people dislike them, but Armand had beaten a lot of rivals to get where he was, and couldn't be dismissed readily. Determined to make an impression, Kotch arrived to the peace negotiations by Chocobo carriage, accompanied by two guards and a driver(there were no cars in the Midgar slums. Apart from punctures and the cost of fuel, the fumes created by them were trapped by the plate, creating choking, dense smog). Normally saved for the old Don's favourite girls, the carriage was in immaculate condition.

Naturally, the Don arrived in a top class stretch limo, accompanied by two of his best enforcers, each equipped with the latest of market supply. By contrast, Kotch's two guards seemed pretty raggy-probably by intention. At the table, Massacci exuded calm poise. Both of them dismissed their guards.

"Hello, Don."

"Kotch. What can I do for you?"

"You heard Heidegger's little speech. We can't afford to catch his attention right now-either of us. I want...peace."

"Peace? Are we at war?"

"Well, considering your little display a couple of weeks ago, I think so."

"That was resolved. We don't promote, conflict, slum child. It's bad for business."

"Exactly. Then you won't object to a ...let's call it a non aggression pact. We'll leave each other alone for the moment."

"Hmm...that benefits you, yes, but me? You can't reach my territories unseen, thanks to my hack into the train system. I'm untouchable."

"That's what you thought a few weeks ago, Don. Look what happened. Who's to say the Fujeo didn't drop down some more ropes while they were there? And there's always the Dragonfly."

"I think we'd notice an assault helicopter."

"Maybe. But think...you may have realised the Fujeo have been getting cash lately. Your welcoming committee system is no good if the force we send is too big to be overcome. I'm sure if I recruited, say, five or six hundred Fujeo, equipped them, and gradually sent them to you...You are rich, Don, but you're also _weak._ You'd be destroyed."

"I thought that was exactly what you were trying to avoid."

"It is. But if you try to destroy us, it's the same result, so why not bring you down with us. Think, Don...when you have everything, you've so much more to lose."

Don Massacci considered. A little breathing space would be of use to him too. He'd been unchallenged for far too long. Maybe he'd get time to build up his enforcing arm.

"Very well, Kotch, you have your...non aggression pact? But remember...you're obliged to keep it too."

"Of course."

Outside, Kotch breathed again. That had gone better than he'd expected. He'd never had to do any pressured negotiating before, certainly not with a Don, though he'd seen Massacci before as part of the old Don Corneo's bodyguard. He looked up. It wasn't often a slums enforcer got to see the sky. He was in danger out of his home ground, but it was too fabulous a night to waste. Crossing the cobbled street to his carriage, he allowed himself to breathe deeply. The driver, hunched over with cold, took no notice of him.

As Kotch put his hand on the carriage door, a reflection in the window caught his attention, and he dropped instantly. The bullet shattered the carriage window, and the two guards inside surged to their feet as Kotch rolled under it. A second assassin unlimbered a machine gun and fired it empty, bullets sparking off cobbles as the heavy burst almost cut the carriage in half, while the third and final one ran around to the front and shot the driver, preventing him from speeding away. The single Chocobo, suddenly woken from its doze, charged forward anyway. The corner of the carriage hit the unfortunate assassin, and he was dragged under one of the wheels as the carriage sped away.

Kotch had since rolled out the other side and was sprinting for the safe house he'd just left. He'd almost reached the threshold when the bullets blew out the back of his head.

At the end of the street, the Chocobo tried to turn the corner. With no driver to brake, the carriage crashed through a shop front, setting off the alarms. The Chocobo was dragged back off its feet by its harnesses, its neck broken by the carriage's weight. As the two wounded guards inside screamed in agony, the assassins took stock. The unlucky one writhed on the ground, his chest caved in by the carriage wheel. Another bullet put him out of his misery. Then they fled. The Samazi were patrolling to make sure exactly this didn't happen, and it wouldn't be long before a detachment of the Midgar City Civil Guard arrived too. It hadn't been easy to get here, but it'd be a lot more difficult to leave.


	9. Succession

**Succession**

When word got back to Wall Market about Kotch's assassination, all the officers were called to an emergency conference. A couple of men were detached to guard the hospitalised surviving enforcer and find out everything he could tell them, but that was the only thing they were able to agree on. Kotch had been farsighted enough to promote two lieutenants when he came to power, two who had been senior members of the Corneos for years. But it was unclear which of them had seniority, and it would be easy for the gang to dissolve into factions.

It was hard to imagine two more different men. Jimmy 'The Cat' Demetrios had arrived in Midgar five years previously and set up as an independent enforcer, terrorising people into paying him protection instead of Corneo, which the Don had naturally not approved of. But Jimmy was a brutally efficient fighter, probably rivalling most Shinra soldiers, and he'd slaughtered three assassination squads before the Don realised he could be an asset and the fourth death squad turned into a job interview instead. The rest was history. Jimmy, called 'the Cat' as he was a vicious bastard who liked to play with his prey when he could, proved phenomenally successful as an enforcer-everyone in the district was terrified of him, but he'd never been promoted under the old Don because of that violent streak. In power, there would be fewer reasons to keep it in check.

The other contender was Don (who wasn't _a_ Don, at least not yet, but just _called _Don) Dillon. A Midgar creature born and bred, Dillon took the view that it was easier to survive if you were on good terms with the locals, and went out of his way to be reasonable with debtors. The slum dwellers loved him, and he'd always survived, not through toughness, but by having his rivals realise that there'd be a lot of pissed debtors if something happened to him. He could be too trusting at times, but if you crossed him too often he was capable of surprisingly vicious retribution. He just preferred not to deliver on his threats. Those who'd been under his command before his promotion would support him with almost anything.

As the Corneo officers were deliberating, they received messages from the Massacci and Samazi expressing condolences for Kotch's death and reiterating their offers of peace. At this point, the Corneos weren't sure who had ordered the assassination, and given Heidegger's message, the last thing they could afford was a war, so they returned a message promising to keep the peace. No such assurance arrived from the Fujeo, but that was hardly surprising. They were now on the brink of civil war, and would be far too busy with their own affairs to cause trouble for the Corneos in the foreseeable future. Still, showing weakness was inadvisable, and the Corneos couldn't afford to stay divided.

Eventually, Don made a proposal. Since it was crucial that the transfer of power be dealt with quickly and without bloodshed, the easiest way to decide the next Don was by vote. This wasn't general practice, but it made sense. There were currently a hundred and twenty seven Corneo enforcers-they'd lost too many in skirmishes to be back to full strength so quickly. But only the officers could vote.

When the votes were cast, Notch found himself in a very unenviable position. There were eleven Corneo junior officers, and each candidate ended up with five votes each, giving Notch the casting vote and thus vastly decreasing his life expectancy. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the faces of his colleagues. There were arguments for both officers. In volatile times, Jimmy could present a strong face to the world, and he was probably best if the family had to engage in a war. But Don could rally the public behind the clan, strengthening them in the long term. They had just achieved peace...but how long would it last? Heidegger's ultimatum was perfectly clear, but if AVALANCHE were dealt with, he might relent, and if that happened, they'd need a strong leader, a war leader.

_It all depends on what I want...war or peace._

After almost ten minutes, Notch opened his eyes, and his mouth.

"Don." The flash of hate was clearly visible in Jimmy's eyes. The newly crowned Don Dillon saw it, and made one of the most important decisions of his career.

"Actually, I don't think I'm the right man for the job in these circumstances. I'll concede the position to you, Jimmy."

Clearly, he didn't want to rule the clan with an ambitious lieutenant snapping at his heels, waiting for a chance to plant a dagger. But this was the worst possible outcome of the power struggle for Notch. Jimmy held grudges, and he would never forget that 'Notch' had almost cost him his empire. Only in the clan a couple of weeks, not only had he participated in a war, but he'd now made an enemy of the new Don Corneo.


	10. New Management

**New Management**

It was clear from the outset that Jimmy would take a radically different approach to running the Corneos than Kotch or the old Don Vito. It was also clear that he would not pay much heed to Heidegger's warning. A dangerous policy, but with war still threatening despite the current fragile truce, perhaps it would work. Shinra could be pushed, and the old Don had been masterful at exploiting that without stepping over the line, but the fact remained that there _was_ a line. Two of the now ruined Midgar gangs could testify to that.

Notch, half listening to what passed for Jimmy's inauguration speech, wondered what he was supposed to do now. Dillon was probably untouchable, as Jimmy couldn't eliminate him without destabilising the clan, but the same could not be said for Notch. His position as an officer made him more difficult for Jimmy to remove, but, then, without his position as an officer he wouldn't have had the vote and wouldn't be in this situation. That said, he might just survive, if he was alert and cautious and followed the orders he was given to the letter, Jimmy might see his worth and let the insult slide. But...he'd need support among the masses for that to work. The person most in a position to help him was Don. If he attempted that too openly, however, Jimmy might see him as staging a coup and get nervous.

It was an intractable problem, so he returned his attention to Jimmy's speech. To hear him tell it, the 'softly softly' approach the Corneos had taken had left them vulnerable. Don had relied heavily on Shinra, and let his own enforcer standards decline, so that when the Corneos lost favour with Shinra, they were weak, and a light Fujeo push had almost sent them over the edge. Notch had to concede the point, and, looking around, he saw that the other officer's faces, even Don's, signalled their agreement. To resist further aggression, Jimmy continued, the Corneos would need to show that they could stand on their own feet, without Shinra, without the HBI, without any outside aid at all. This would require building up the Corneo enforcing arm, which would cost money, meaning that the Corneo protection fee would have to rise, and new avenues of income would need to be found. Don objected to this, but was overruled-he'd probably only done so as a sop to his debtors. To many people's surprise, Jimmy was making valid points, reasonable points, instead of the 'kill everyone' rant they were expecting. Notch began wondering if he'd get out of his mess after all.

Jimmy planned to hit the ground running. Among his first ideas was to return the clan to their former stronghold, the Don's manor. This was another popular move –few of the clan had liked the idea of throwing themselves on the mercy of the HBI in the first place, and, like Jimmy himself, viewed it as a display of weakness which would have the other gangs scenting blood. He would also sever the Corneo's close connections with the HBI, another move that made sense. Don Vito's overactive libido had left him ludicrously vulnerable to assassination. His so called 'search for a bride' had left him open to any beautiful girl with a knife. If the wild tales the dressmaker had begun telling had any truth to them, all it had taken in the end was a dress and a wig. Not that they were likely to be true. A dress and a wig, sadly, did not turn a tall, muscular, Mako eyed male with stubble and a six foot sword stuffed down the back of the dress into anything that could be taken for a female of any shape or size, especially for the Don, who had enough experience to tell. Either the Don had been stoned to the point of insensibility at the time, or the dressmaker was lying through his teeth. None of this was in the speech of course, but everyone in the room was thinking it.

Reducing the Corneo's connections to the HBI would doubtless provoke hostility from the management, but it would free up a huge amount of the Corneo's finances. Jimmy was not stupid enough to forbid his enforcers from indulging entirely, but from now on, they would enter the Inn on their own time. The income from the enforcers would be reduced, with no more official orgies, but would not be eliminated entirely, which would hopefully be enough to placate Niall. The HBI had numerous branches throughout Midgar City and beyond, and enough enforcers (officially employed to protect employees, but were far too well equipped for that to be their only function) to cause trouble. They weren't powerful enough to unseat the Corneos alone, but they could be a powerful enemy if the other gangs gave them the right incentive. So they would bear watching, but that did not outweigh the extra money the relative abstinence would provide.

As well as freeing up existing finance, Jimmy had concrete plans regarding how to get more. The Midgar Civic Elections were looming, and provided an opportunity for earning a lot of cash through very little effort.

Although everyone knew that Shinra control over Midgar was absolute, officially, they were still merely a power company, and Midgar was, theoretically, still ruled by mayor Domino. There was still a structure of civic officials in place under him, however, which did exactly as Shinra wished, and little else. They _could, _theoretically, use their power to better the city, but few in practice bothered. However, Shinra provided generous grants to the Civil Officials, effectively to do nothing. There was even a Civil Guard, an official government army, which, again, was mostly idle. It tackled the problems that the Shinra Army couldn't be bothered with, such as fire fighting and investigating when burglar alarms sounded (often, because they were bored, with a hugely disproportionate response.) Though the Civil Guard appeared well equipped, in practice, they were on a more or less even footing with the gangs. The existence of the Civil Guard allowed Shinra to neatly sidestep any responsibility whatsoever regarding the condition of Midgar, while allowing them to interfere if they wished. It was a masterful little game, while in reality, the only executive who even deigned to speak with Domino was Reeve, and even he only did so for the sake of his dignity.

Since the denizens of the Midgar slums knew that, whatever they voted, there would be absolutely no difference made in their lives, all it would take to secure a vote would be a request. And if a candidate was willing to pay for that, well, that was his loss. As it turned out, a candidate called John Highfield had made himself well known around the slums in recent weeks. He actually went to the effort of canvassing, an action which provoked incredulity from most of the masses, but which they found oddly endearing.

There were other aspects to the speech, such as it was, but those were the main points. Overall, Notch was very impressed. Towards the end, Jimmy even sounded a note of caution, prompted by a gift deposited at the HBI doors the previous day. The severed, decaying head of one Vito Corneo, whose escape had not gone as well as he'd hoped. The message was clear.

**There's a limit to how far you can push us. And once we set our sights, you can't escape.**


	11. Power Play

**Power Play**

Impressed as he was by Jimmy's little speech, Notch almost forgot to be angry with Dillon. Almost. His anger was tempered by the fact that he had finally gotten paid, having completed his first month in the clan's employment. As such, he merely asked Dillon if he could talk to him, privately, before picking him up by the throat and ramming him against the nearest wall, instead of simply shooting him and throwing him off the roof.

"Why the fuck did you do that? You've killed me!"

Dillon appeared totally calm. "I'm afraid my hide means more to me than yours, my friend. Now put me down."

"Why? Throwing you off the building will prove my loyalty to the new Don, won't it?"

"And get you killed by my supporters. There are a lot of them around. More than you think."

"Why would they do that? You're dead; wouldn't they attach themselves to the new Don?"

"You think people act logically? You're mistaken. The people love me. They'll fight for me. And they'll avenge me."

"Maybe, but that'll do you no good."

"And murdering your only potential ally will do you good, will it?"

"_That's_ what I was waiting to hear. You'll protect me?"

"From what? Jimmy won't touch you directly, not until his power is secure. Gaining the Don's mantle is no good to him if I have more support. By killing me, you just create more enemies for yourself."

"Then you're no good to me. And if I let you go now, I risk _your _reprisals."

"True...but if you don't let me go, you've no allies. And I mean _no_ allies. Jimmy and I will both try to eradicate you. A lot of enemies for one slum kid."

By this stage, Notch found his arms tiring. Years of prosperity working under Don Corneo had not left Dillon with a light build. He put him down and stood back, ready to draw if Dillon did.

"To tell the truth, kid, I'm not sure you've much to fear. The Cat's a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit. I'll not waste effort protecting you from shadows. But...if you are ever in danger, real, tangible danger that you can show me...I'll see what I can do. Now get out of my face."

Notch turned towards the door to the conference room. Dillon called him back.

"Oh, kid? You're a ballsy little fucker, I'll give you that, but if you ever lay hands on me again, the Cat's vengeance will be the last thing you need to worry about. Got that?"

"Yup. Got it."

"Now get out of here." Notch obliged, but didn't quite flee.

_Yay! Another potential enemy! Just what I needed. Christ, so many threats. Ah, fuck it; I'll just see what happens._

* * *

'The Cat' was, overall, quite happy with the way his little speech had turned out. True, there'd been a little friction from Dillon, but nothing all that serious and he could tell he'd made a good impression. That poor kid who'd had the casting vote was terrified of retribution. He'd never dare antagonise him, and was hardly a threat, so now he had a majority of support among the officers. Without a large majority behind him, Dillon would not make a move-he was a sucker for the public. So Jimmy was secure in his position for the moment.

His reputation had proved useful. But it was erroneous in one respect. Jimmy was widely viewed as merely a brutal thug. This was broadly true, but Jimmy was not a _brainless_ thug, and he wasn't Hojo either, causing pain for the sake of pain. He wouldn't kill a random passer by without reason. He actually felt sorry for the poor kid who hadn't voted for him. He'd been promoted practically on his first day, being sent to die, and now he was expected to be an officer. His term so far had been pretty peaceful, and the set pieces he'd been involved in were undemanding, involving little more thought than 'RUN!' and 'DUCK!' If a real war got going, Eric would not survive long, and if he died, Jimmy could lose his majority. He'd need to season him before another major conflict arose. But not today.

Leaving the HBI, Jimmy decided to make his mark on the Corneo clan affairs as quickly as possible by engaging in some hands on extortion. They'd need to raise the rates, in preparation for another war, and doing it personally would increase his popularity with the Enforcers. He needed to counter Dillon's public support by support within the clan. Slipping his brass knuckles in place, he strolled into a random building which happened to be the dress shop. The elderly proprietor abandoned a transaction and approached. Everyone knew Jimmy, and they knew it was best not to piss him off.

A long pause ensued.

"What can I do for you...sir?", the dressmaker asked, rubbing his hands together. The smell of alcohol from him was close to choking.

Jimmy paused for effect, sighing melodramatically.

"I'm the new Don Corneo. I thought I'd let you know that we'll be raising the rates."

"What? We're barely breaking even as it is!"

That was bullshit. The Wall Market Boutique was famed across the city, as the owner was one of the best in the business. The HBI had several running contracts with him, and one of the old Don's more intelligent rackets involved guarding Upper Plate ladies while they shopped. It was true that the establishment was struggling, but only because the tailor was a raging alcoholic. He'd tried to clean himself up recently, but after one project, he'd relapsed again. Said project had placed him on thin ice with the Corneo clan, if only he had the intelligence to see it.

"Don't test me, Harry." His daughter was dealing with the customers as quickly as possible, desperately hoping she could get them finished with in time to stop things getting out of hand. Smart girl.

She hadn't gotten it from Dad, however. The dressmaker actually stiffened in outrage. Facing a man three times his size, who was wearing a holster, and famed for his cruelty. Good God, some people just didn't deserve to live.

"Don't threaten me! You can't touch me and you know it! I have friends who can bring the entire Shinra army down on your head! You know you can't touch me! You're not even native; you're nothing but an upstart Gongaga rat!" The daughter closed her eyes.

Now he was insulting a gang Don. Astonishing.

Irritatingly, he was speaking the truth. Scarlet was known to patronise his establishment on occasion-a slums girl herself, she liked to promote the place when she could. Nothing was more infuriating to a clan enforcer than a self confident civilian who thought they were invulnerable.

Faster than sight, Jimmy drew, and Harry's daughter screamed. The dressmaker lunged at him wildly, but Jimmy picked him up in one hand and threw him into a dress rack, toppling three rows. Some of the customers fled, but others refused to move, staring in horrified fascination as Jimmy knelt down to the girl with the bullet in her shin. He thought about tearing a strip of a dress, but there was always the possibility he'd end up ruining one of Scarlet's special commissions, so he tore off his own sleeve to use as a tourniquet, wrapping it as tightly as he could with all his formidable strength. Now thoroughly confused, Harry's daughter met his eyes. He looked away.

"I'm sorry. I don't like to see somebody else paying for that Muppet's mistakes, but I had to make him see reason."

The girl (he'd have to find out her name from somebody) laughed bitterly. "Oh, he'll see reason alright. Right up to the point when he sees a bottle."

Jimmy blinked. He'd known about it, but not that it was quite so devastating a problem as it seemed to be.

"I'll see what I can do." And that was another thing that was known about Jimmy-he kept his word, whether he promised death or a favour. He'd have a word with the barman later. His victim looked up at him.

"Thank you," she whispered, which he couldn't help but feel was a bit bizarre. Her father was twitching-the dresses had cushioned him from the impact. It probably would be best to be gone when he woke up. After removing his bullet with a nearby sewing kit, Jimmy turned to leave. As an apprentice dressmaker, she would be perfectly capable of stitching the wound herself.

Smiling, partly for effect and partly from genuine enjoyment, he stepped outside and headed for the gym. Word was spreading, and with his existing reputation, most of the populace would be cowed. Of course, there would always be friction...

Turning a corner, he suddenly found a length of wood being swung at his head. Catching the offending implement, he slipped inside the wielder's guard and decked him with one jab of his brass knuckles. Before he'd hit the ground, Jimmy had relieved him of his plank and used it to snap the neck of his second attacker. There were three more behind, but when they saw what he'd done to the others, they dropped their pieces of wood and dipped for firearms, giving him a second's breathing space. Backflipping, his feet connected with the throat of the attacker directly behind him. As Jimmy came upright, he snapped out both his hands to the sides, shattering the skulls of the attackers standing to either side.

By this stage, approximately seven seconds had passed since he turned the corner. Jimmy drew his gun. Two snapped necks, a crushed throat, and broken skulls. Not bad. Shame none of them were capable of speaking. They'd used the lengths of wood to make it look like pissed off civilians had turned on him, but, clearly, this'd been a professional, organised hit. Somebody didn't like him. It was in their interest not to have an aggressive Corneo clan. That...was a long list. But...he planned to find them, and war would be approaching. And he had a weak link in his chain of command. Unless he seasoned him quickly, the poor kid was royally fucked.

* * *

Weeks passed, and the Civic Elections came up. Highfield had promised Jimmy 10 gil per vote, plus intervention on his behalf with the Shinra. Many of the clan found this amusing. He actually thought he could influence the Shinra. He won in a landslide, naturally, as no other candidate had even bothered to contest an election against a Corneo backed contender. Highfield had wasted his money. Or, he would have, if he had paid it. But he reneged on his promise. And it was Notch who was sent to get it, seeing as it was a minor problem and he was an inexperienced officer.

Notch took two underlings with him, aware that he did not really know what he was doing. By all accounts, collecting the fee would not be much trouble. Highfield lived in a shack in Sector Five, alone, with no company but a Guard Hound. He had money, however, because he was well known in the slums as a creature who worked ludicrously hard at any job he was given. He'd arrived in the city with nothing four years previously after Corel had burned to the ground, but beyond that, little was known about him.

"Any advice?" Notch asked, just before knocking.

"A corpse can't pay up. Be nice. People driven too far do stupid things."

"Thanks, Dan."

He knocked. John J Highfield opened the door, bowing to them like a butler.

"Why, a bunch o' Corneo thugs! This' a pleasant surprise, welcome, welcome, do come in!" Highfield wore glasses and long, dirty brown hair, dressed in scuffed, battered looking shoes. Compared to the relatively prosperous enforcers, he was a pathetic sight. The Corel accent was strong. The warm reception had Notch instantly suspicious. People seldom looked forward to debt collectors.

"What can I do fur ya, gentlemen?"

"You owe us money?"

"What for?"

"The election? Councillor for Sector 5? You enlisted our help?" That was actually strange. Before this, John had always steered clear of the Corneos, a fact which had contributed to his current penury.

"You mean the mob only did me a favour to expect something in return?" John asked, with exaggerated pantomime surprise. "I'm shocked! I will say good day to you, sirs!" And he went to the door and opened it for them.

"What are you doing?"

"Get out!"

"You've got to pay us first."

"With what?"

"With what? What the hell? Gil, you prick!"

"You want some metal? How about lead!" And John drew an old, battered handgun. Notch got there first and shot him in the stomach. John collapsed against the door, laughing hysterically.

"Why the hell'd you do that?" A lackey picked up John's weapon. It wasn't loaded and had the hammer missing. "Are you crazy?"

John looked up, one hand holding his stomach. "No...before, I was a powerless official. Now, the Corneos have shot a powerless official over a minor debt. People will notice. This'll bring down a lot of heat on you, guys. Shinra might even let me direct the Guard against you. You're going down, boys."

"Why? What've you got against us?"

"You remember the old Don, right? I arrived here after Shinra burned down Corel, with nothing but my sister and some scars. The Don was most gracious...but his search for a bride was just beginning. You can guess the rest. So...here I am. And I'm not going to stop until your clan is dust!"

Notch raised his gun to finish him, but one of his lackeys forced it down.

"You wanna make him a martyr? Let's get the fuck outta here!"

So they fled. And Notch had to report back a spectacular failure to his boss, as a routine debt collection had now turned a lot of heat on the Corneos. Needless to say, Jimmy was not pleased.


	12. Flowers Blooming in the Slums

_If any of my original readers are still around, allow me to sincerely apologise for the delay-I think it's over a year since I last updated. I should be getting back into gear now._

**Flowers Blooming in the Slums**

For all his bravado, Highfield's promise of retribution turned out to be far less detrimental to the Corneo clan affairs than he believed. Heidegger had previously tolerated a direct attack on a member of the Shinra board of directors without taking action beyond a warning. An injury to an utterly powerless official who wasn't even a member of Shinra Inc did not result in the slightest change to the Shinra army's routine. If Jimmy received a private communication, he did not bring it to his lieutenants' attention.

The Civil Guard _were _a little more visible on the streets than before, but that was no more than an inconvenience. If Highfield had tried to rally public support, he could have capitalised on Jimmy's less than benevolent reputation, but he hadn't, and his troop's patrols were increasingly annoying the slum dwellers who had voted for him. Jimmy had publicly sympathised with the fate of John's sister, before pointing out that he himself had been a middle ranker in the Corneos at the time, and had had nothing to do with the whole affair. The Don, and his then lieutenants were now dead, and therefore any lust for revenge on the Corneos was entirely misplaced. He also promised to clamp down on such practices.

Highfield took up drinking.

Notch became an ironic hero within the Corneos for his poor extortion technique. While the Guards were not a huge concern, their patrols did make it difficult to conduct an all out war, and as such, The Cat's plans for expansion were indefinitely postponed. The problem would pass, as the Guard's sympathetic response waned, but in the meantime, the Corneos had few choices other than to sit still and make money, which irked Jimmy, but pleased almost everyone else. The new Don was not wasting his breathing space, however. Vito Corneo's management style encouraged a certain ... lax ... lifestyle among his staff, but with Shinra's protection now gone, they'd need to be more capable. It was now compulsory for every clan associate to spend two hours daily training unless they had other duties. Notch, young, fit, and recruited too late to have enjoyed most of the previous' Don's excesses, was not overburdened by this, but some of the more overweight high rankers went into shock. Nonetheless, the Corneo clan as a whole became stronger, tougher, and a great deal leaner than they ever had been before. Jimmy even splashed out on some high quality assault weapons and began training his closest underlings in their use. The heart attack rate among senior gang members plummeted after the first week.

With Dillon at his right hand, the Cat was shaping up to be the best Don the Corneo clan had ever had. He kept his word to the dressmaker, and her father could no longer be served by any bartender in Corneo territory. He clamped down on any and all indulgences which he felt threatened the security of the clan, provoking fury which no one dared express.

His aggressive recruiting campaign yielded results, and the Corneos were soon back almost to full strength. Recruiting women as muscle for the first time bolstered their numbers significantly, capable fighters driven away previously by Don Vito's constant leering. This was a largely uncontroversial move −established lieutenants were glad to see a few girls in house.

Jimmy himself became the subject of interest of some of Wall Market's females − voluntary, unsolicited interest, so rare in Sector Six as to be worth comment. He kept himself in excellent physical condition, regularly taking on multiple HBI bodybuilders in the boxing ring, and was known for his honesty and sense of justice − if someone crossed him, he would break their arms, but not hold a grudge afterwards. Don Vito would quite literally have killed for such attention, but Jimmy was too conscious of said Don's fall from grace to be receptive to it.

The inhabitants of Wall Market had initially been wary, fearing he was about to embark on widespread slaughter. There had been a few maimings, but only to people who'd done something stupid like directly attacking their extorters. The protection rates had risen, but not to the point of insanity, and the Corneo Enforcers were visibly and largely peacefully earning their keep. A clan enforcer was now better paid but less indulgent a position than it had been, and most of Wall Market's businesspeople were perfectly happy with that.

Within the clan itself, the staff had universally hated the new rigid training regime, but no one dared to directly challenge his leadership, and hate gradually softened into respect as they felt the fruits of their labour. For some, respect became awe, until they almost deified their Don, obeying his every impulse without question or comment. The others swallowed their reservations in the name of unity.

As time passed, John J Highfield sank deeper into despair, and the Civil Guard's ardour cooled into concern. The patrols slackened.

With all Jimmy's pruning processes in place, the Corneo clan was growing in power once more, Shinra shielded indolence falling away. It was quite possible they were preparing for war. So, of course, the Fujeo struck first.

* * *

Notch knew something was wrong as soon as he arrived at Corneo Manor. The lobby was full of gang muscle, most of whom were armed. He ascended to the Don's office to find the other officers in place, and Jimmy −Don Corneo− behind his desk, brass knuckles visible. Unlike Kotch, the Don showed few signs of nerves, but his lieutenants –Dillon on his right, and a newly promoted protégé, Mepho, on his left, had hands twitching towards their weapons when Notch entered.

Don Corneo did not mince words. "Aeris' church has been overrun by Fujeo, and they're holding it."

"Shit!" proved the prevalent response, but few seemed especially concerned. Aeris Gainsborough (AKA Aerith) was arguably the most terrifying woman in the Midgar slums. Like Tifa, she was an independent business owner who had cowed the Don into tolerating her presence. Aeris cultivated flowers at her home and in a run down church in Sector 5, and sold them all over the city. In the Mako drained Midgar wastes, flowers were worth more than diamonds, and since no one else had managed to grow plants within two hundred miles of Midgar, she could name her price. Friends and those who caught her interest could get her wares for a token gil, while people she disliked could be set back hundreds, and occasionally thousands.

Aeris affected an air of total innocence and to speak to she was one of the nicest people anyone had ever met, but the Don's initial attempt to muscle in on her market (sold in bulk on the plate, flowers could fetch incredible prices) had resulted in the extortion squadron being beaten to a pulp by her 1st class SOLDIER boyfriend. Once the boyfriend disappeared, the Don tried again, against the advice of his lieutenants. The second squad simply vanished. The next day, human fingerbones were delivered to Corneo Manor, together with a single flower and a business card.

**Administrative Research Department: 'Taking Care of Business'.**

Subsequently, the Corneos left her alone. The girl clearly had connections. But the Don would not have called them together like this if he didn't intend taking action. Mepho raised his hand to silence murmurs, and Jimmy continued speaking.

"I know what you're all thinking, but Aeris hasn't been seen in weeks, and neither have the bluecoats. Elmrya's gone too, there's no one there but two kids who spotted a gap in the market. The Turks would have taken action by now if they were going to. We're on our own."

Murmurs. Someone in the crowd asked "Can't we just leave em be? We never had revenue from that building anyways."

"Leave them BE!" Jimmy dipped for his holster, flexed his fingers, and then slowly returned his hand to his side. "Oh yes! Let's leave an enemy squad holding a defensible position within our territory! Once they get a toehold, they'll start expanding, and we've already lost Sector 7! If we don't end this before they reinforce, they'll launch a full offensive. And, face it people, as of now, if the Fujeo decide to hit us hard, really, really hard... There's thirty of em in that building right now, what happens if they send a hundred and fifty here, now? Two hundred, three, four! Win or lose, it'd be ugly as hell. We need to respond, and we need to act _now!_"

Silence. Jimmy paused, looked up. "...Notch." He had hesitated, but not smiled when using the name. Had he not been so tense, Notch would have been jubilant.

"You feel up to another anti-Fujeo mission? Be honest."

"If it has to be done, it has to be done." He most certainly was not going to challenge the Don. Jimmy smiled.

"That's the spirit! Your squad is the only force we have that's seen real action in the last sixteen years, you're our best shot of cleaning this up quickly. Good luck. We're counting on you."

Notch trooped downstairs to deliver the news to his subordinates. He had led an attack squad under Kotch, and now he was expected to lay a siege.

000000000000000

Notch had never made a habit of journeying to Sector 5. He'd been to Sector 7 whenever he could, as service at Seventh Heaven had been downright awesome if you could get by the guards at the gate, but the route to sector 5 included a stretch of crumbling, cracked tarmac, crawling with... well, Crawlers. Not somewhere you strolled through without good reason. After commandeering a Hell House to use as a siege weapon, Notch and his squad of twelve crept through the shattered road, fighting where necessary but all the while trying to conserve ammunition for the clash that awaited them. It occurred to Notch that a quick retreat to Wall Market would be virtually impossible if their attack ended badly.

They reached sector 5 with no more than flesh wounds and a handful of expended shells, to find the streets utterly deserted − slums creatures were good at surviving; they knew when to run and hide. Notch reminded himself that he was still in Corneo territory. They _might _be willing to lend support if the squad had to flee. Or not.

The church loomed large on the horizon, apparently lifeless. Feeling that he might as well at least pretend to have a strategy, Notch sent four of his squad who knew sector five climbing the rubble − attempted suicides from the plate had left a large hole in the church roof. An attack from above could be a crucial distraction if it came at the right time.

The wooden double doors were ajar and unguarded. The Corneo squadron, crouched behind their now unnecessary battering ram, procrastinated.

"Surprised we haven't been shot by now..." Notch murmured, to no one.

"They're Fujeo. They probably only have four or five guns between em. No need to waste rounds, we'll be bludgeoned to death instead."

_ Whoop dee fucking doo._

Notch hesitated a moment longer. "Okay. Let's do this. And for fuck's sake don't step on the flowers."

000000000000000

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_Please review. Compliments not compulsory._


	13. Churches and Trains

_Shit, I keep forgetting about this one. And then I forget what I've written previously, and directly contradict myself whenever I do get around to continuing...ie. the descriptions of Jimmy's personality. Although maybe I shouldn't be pointing this out. To prevent anyone returning to check, here's the story so far..._

_My protagonist gets hired by the Corneo family, and is ordered to assassinate a squad of Shinra Soldiers who embarrass the Don. He's the only survivor of the failed mission, and gets badly hurt in the process. Once healed, he's promoted and sent on another mission, which has mixed results. Meanwhile, one of the Shinra soldiers assassinates Don Corneo, who is replaced by his lieutenant Kotch. Kotch, after an attack by another gang, arranges a meeting with their leader and is assassinated after successfully achieving peace. The remnants of the gang elect a new Don, Jimmy, who restructures the entire family, and is not happy with his most junior officer's lack of experience. When the Fujeo, one of the other gangs, attacks, the Corneo's newest Don sends a squad to retake the claimed territory, a church in Sector 5..._

**Churches and Trains**

The first Corneo Enforcer through the door met a length of wood coming the other way. Nose, neck, and torn up floorboard snapped. Notch, levelling his weapon, was about to squeeze off a round when one of his experienced enforcers stepped in front of him, dragging his comrade to one side and pulling one of the doors wide. Unwilling to enter open ground where they'd be exposed to the Corneo's superior arms, there was no counterattack as Notch sent the Hell House through the gap, three Enforcers in its wake. Inside, Fujeo Enforcers popped up from behind benches as the Corneos crouched behind their siege weapon, opening fire on any visible enemies. A rocket suddenly emerged from under the machine's eaves, spiralling towards a Fujeo standing behind the altar. One of the few of the defenders holding a gun, he or she managed to avoid the actual missile, but took wounds from shrapnel. The four Fujeo Enforcers directly inside the door fared badly against three gun wielding Corneos and a machine, leaving three more throwing debris from the side. One lucky hit with a piece of broken bench dropped another Corneo, but the three weren't really in a position to match relatively heavily armed enforcers and dropped when they tried to close.

Shooting echoed down from the rooftops as the Enforcers sent climbing opened up. At least one gun not Corneo issue replied, its shots sparse and probably taken with care.

Outside, Notch and his three reserves hesitated between reinforcing their fellows and holding the entrance. Then suddenly, a thrown stone clipped Notch's shoulder and a flanking squad of four Fujeos charged from outside the church. The lead Fujeo soaked up three bullets before hitting his knees, but he'd given his fellows the opportunity to close, and Notch was forced to block a floorboard swipe on his forearm. Smashing his attacker's nose with his gun hand, he drove his shoulder low, knocking the Fujeo back to arms length where he brought his gun into play. As his opponent dropped, he looked around to find the other two Fujeo and one Corneo down.

"We're too exposed here. Let's go." Notch and his two remaining Corneos joined the two inside the building, who now stood unopposed. After a careful sweep to make sure the room really wasn't occupied, the gang began to head for the doorway behind the altar.

"Check your ammunition, now."

In this shamefully quick engagement, the Corneos had lost three, possibly more depending on how the roof detachment was doing. The Fujeo had lost...twelve, possibly more. Notch wasn't sure if that was an even exchange. At least a quarter of his squad was down for the foreseeable future, but this building was capable of holding a lot of people. There probably wasn't more than fifty, as that would be disproportionate even for Fujeo, but that would still be enough to leave the the mission and the squad royally screwed. Gunshots still echoed from overhead, which was probably a good sign. Fujeo wouldn't waste their rounds.

A barrel dropped from the rafters, a direct hit on the Hell House. The supply of Rockets under the eaves ignited, blasting apart the roof and displaying the House as the warmech it was. An unfortunate design flaw of the things, the reason they'd never seen extensive use in Wutai.

The Corneos glanced rafterward as a second barrel fell the floor and smashed.

"We need to move", a veteran said, and Notch found himself nodding. They had to abandon the Hell House, which couldn't fit through the doorframe. From here, it would get ugly.

There was a full eight people immediately inside the door, but this time the Corneos were ready, losing two but taking down their attackers in a quick storm of gunplay. This left three Corneos standing, plus Notch, but only one Fujeo was in sight. He was standing at the top of some stairs, the base of which was a running leap away, and was carrying a gun, larger and better kept than the others...probably an officer or something similar. Levelling his weapon. Notch knew he wasn't accomplished enough to shoot at this distance.

_Oh, fuck it. I'm more comfortable as a lackey anyway._ He leapt the distance between his platform and the base of the stairs. Cursing, two Corneo lackeys followed in his wake. The officer fired, but the round went well awry...A downside to the Fujeo need to conserve ammunition, apparently, was that they weren't well trained in the use of the weapons.

He'd almost reached the peak of the stairs when the barrel fell from the rafters, hitting the stairs in front of him and rolling into his path. Notch leapt in time, but he couldn't completely clear it when running up stairs. His foot landed on top of the rolling barrel, and he pitched forward at his targets feet, hearing screams of pain from the lackeys following. A shin connected with his nose, and something snapped. Driving forward, he picked up the Fujeo officer and threw him at the ground. The Fujeo's feet swept Notch's own from under him. Both of them lost their guns.

The officer was smaller and wirier than Notch, but made up for it in sheer ferocity. Notch had never encountered such a storm of elbows, teeth, and fingernails. A thumb gouge almost took his right eye, but he jerked his head back in time. Grabbing the offending arm, he slammed it into the stairwell, trying to snap the wrist. The Fujeo's other hand impacted with Notch's throat, but couldn't catch hold. Grabbing the wrist, he pinned that too, then caught a foot in the chest. Propelled backwards, he rolled onto one of their fallen guns and levelled it at the Fujeo's head. The officer froze...whereupon four Fujeo reserves that hadn't been visible from below snatched Notch off his feet. Regaining his clunky Fujeo weapon, the officer...didn't smile, but exhaled.

"Shit, you almost got me. Close." A glance backward.

"Have we got em?"

An underling approached with an armful of guns. "Enough, I guess. Boss, we've got to get out of here, there's another squad coming, and we're battered. This squad was just to soften us, it looks like."

"Soften? The boss looked around. Many of the Fujeo were regaining their feet, even with bullet wounds. Just over half of them were still alive, it looked like. "Looks like the Corneos are tougher than we thought."

Supported by two Fujeo, Notch looked up. "We're the cannon fodder, the disposables. You haven't seen nothing yet."

Teeth flashed, a bright flash in the boss' otherwise grubby appearance. "Really? I'm Marcia Fujeo. The youngest of the clan. I'm disposable too. Anyway, thanks for coming, we really needed these." She kicked him off the ledge, a straight fall to floorboards.

...It hurt.

00000000000

He woke up to find Jimmy staring down at him, a Cure Materia, in hand. Blinking, he looked again.

"Materia?"

Using Materia was taboo for the gangs. The quickest way to end a gang war was assassinating a Don. If a Don routinely used Barrier Materia, a stealth assassination became virtually impossible, so the only way to end the war was to totally obliterate the gang in its entirety. Such wars were inevitably long, bloody, and heavily damaging to both sides...in no one's interest. So it was considered bad practice for any gang affiliated entity to use Materia. Jimmy apparently did not consider himself bound by such strictures.

The Don blinked. "Kid, I've probably just saved your life. Don't be picky. Anyway, that was pretty well done. You've three down for good, but you drove them off."

"They weren't here for land, they wanted our weapons..."

The Don's head cocked. "Really? That sounds bad...If they need weapons, they're going to use them, and we're the most obvious targets. Well then, Notch, this is a problem. You up for another expedition to sector 4?"

_What? What the hell? WHAT THE HELL?_

"Sir, I'm in no condition to−"

"Nah, you're totally healed. The train's gone by now. There's no point in chasing them, you'll walk right into ambushes. But we need to make a revenge attack, or else they'll do this again and again. And you're the only officer who's done it before."

"Sir−"

"Don't worry, I'm not Kotch, I'll give you specific objectives of what to do, nothing too tough. You can head out in the morning. And don't call me sir. Where do you think you are, the army?"

Don Corneo walked away. Notch closed his eyes.

000000000000000

With Sector Seven gone, getting on a train proved a problem. The train network was largely based around the central pillar, so the entire timetable hadn't needed to be rerouted, but the next nearest station was in Sector 4, right in the middle of Fujeo territory. Reaching sector Eight would involve climbing over rubble, which he considered needlessly dangerous. This left his only option the central pillar, which was accessible from Sector Six, albeit with extremely heavy security.

He needed to get on the train. Not to go anywhere, just to gain time to think. Just for fun, he got himself a return ticket to Upper Sector 8. Let the Massacci panic and put together a welcoming committee. They wouldn't attack him, not unless he left the train station...not when Shinra was in their current mood. The train network itself was sacrosanct. No one could touch him here. One guy actually lived on the train, Yvonne had said once. He had three separate prices on his head from different gangs, and made a living as a well connected fence without ever leaving the carriage, knowing he was dead if he ever took three steps outside. Nice guy, apparently.

The difficulty was, his ID was supplied by the Corneos. If they wanted him, Jimmy could deactivate it, leaving him open to the Shinra ID Scan...and given AVALANCHE's recent actions, Shinra would likely not be tolerant of unauthorised train use. He couldn't afford to antagonise the new Don, but he knew for a fact that he would not survive another raid on Fujeo territory. He'd shown no tactical genius or fighting ability during the first attack, just good luck and fast feet. And this time, the Fujeos would be more prepared...possibly even better armed, if they planned on using Corneo weapons. He'd be very unlikely to survive, and Jimmy could promote someone he trusted to the vacant position. No, obeying would not get him anywhere –even if he survived, he'd just be sent somewhere equally dangerous. But flouting direct orders was dangerous too, leaving his options very limited.

The obvious answer was to run. But run where? Leaving the city required money and connections. The monsters in the Midgar wastes would pounce on any pedestrian travelling alone, even if he could breach Midgar's outer shell. Within the city, not many would risk sheltering a disgraced Corneo enforcer. The other gangs wouldn't bother unless he had some kind of edge like the train hack, something that made him valuable. The Shinra army would be a possible lifeline− Soldiers were untouchable except in very specialised circumstances. But he'd failed the entrance exam, which was why he'd ended up with the gangs in the first place. Now he was just being delusional. Shinra had no reason to protect him. Dillon, Jimmy's most influential lieutenant, had directly stated he'd only protect Notch, if he had evidence of an immediate direct threat, which would be difficult to prove until after the sentence was carried out.

_Sentence..._

"Would the gentleman in Car 7 with his head in his hands please take his teenage angst elsewhere."

"Again? Seriously, this is getting annoying now. When the hell did you get here, anyway? Do you follow me around?"

"Uh...you got on _my t_rain. I'm stationed three cars down, but gang IDs are flagged, so when yours came up on the scan I thought I'd say hi. You've been here for hours, is something wrong?"

"...Sort of. You seriously just happened to be on this train?"

"...Sector 7 is the train graveyard, where we keep them at night. We lost fourteen trains and...two...employees... Which means that there are a lot less services now. And surplus employees, so I need to get back to work."

_Sentence..._

"Listen, I'm not in the best mood...did you have a worthwhile reason to talk to me?"

"...no."

"Okay. Sorry about this." He stood up and punched her as hard as he could, sending the armoured soldier backwards over a chair.

"What the hell? What'd I−"

"You didn't! Now, what are you trained to do?"

"What? What's going on?" He took another swipe lefthanded, cracking her visor. The third strike was blocked on the train guard's baton. It tapped the back of his wrist...had he not surrendered his weapon after boarding, he probably would have lost it then. Snatching the baton with his other hand, he wrenched it out of hers, and shoulder charged low, knocking Yvonne back a step. Stepping back, he raised his hands,

"Surrender, I think."

"Fuck you!" A passenger wrapped arms around his neck from behind, but the warning was enough for him to slip it and drive his elbow back into the face.

"Guys, I need help in 7. Fight. No idea why."

" Hey, ease up. I'm surrendering, okay"

"Not enough, dude! Fucking gangs, we can't just let you run the show."

Another charge, but Notch caught the arm and dragged it down, picking him up and throwing him at the nearest window. The glass cracked. Grabbing the man by the hair, Notch drove his head into the glass again, three times, until he was certain there would be no more trouble from his attacker.

"_What is wrong with you_?" She crossed to the fallen passenger. "You just attacked a mid level Shinra architect. He designs streetlights or something." Pause. "Eric ...he's dead."

_Oh no. No no no._ "Running start?"

"From a _murder _committed in front of me_?_ No." She tapped her right wrist, and a mounted beam cannon emerged from the bracer. "Y'know, I've never had to fire this before. I don't want to kill you."

"Scarlet will gas me anyway." He took a step sideways.

"Yeah, well...For some reason I'm not feeling too sympathetic right now. _Stay where you are!"_

Step.

"_Why? _Why'd you attack me? What did I do? What did he do?"

"He jumped me. Honestly, I didn't plan on hurting him. Or you, much. This was a mistake." Step.

"Don't. Move."

Two train guards emerged from the other end of the carriage, batons raised. Yvonne's head twitched, and Notch dove for the outer door of the carriage.

Had her weapon fired bullets, he wouldn't have made it, but, inexplicably, scattered light beams were somehow slower in transit than metal ammunition. Possibly Scarlet knew why. Notch felt them sear across his shoulder as he kicked open the door and leapt from the train.

One murder wasn't worth bringing the rail network to a standstill. He had a small breathing space. Trouble was, he had no idea what to do with it.


	14. Going to Ground

**Going to Ground**

Don Dillon, one of the senior lieutenants of the new Don Corneo, (Jimmy), looked up as someone knocked on his office door.

"Yes?" One hand crept to his holster. High ranked though he was, he wasn't trusted by the new management.

One of his guards poked his head around the door. All his immediate entourage owed him their lives, earning his absolute trust.

"'Notch'" the guard smiled "is here to see you."

"To see _me?_" The newest officer ranked enforcer was thoroughly cowed, one of Don(Jimmy's) creatures, to the point where he was being used as a battering ram. And Don (Dillon) had hung him over that fire, by turning down the nomination to Don (ie. the figurehead of the Corneos ). There was no way 'Notch' would think much of him.

"Let him come in. But one of you stay too."

Pause, and then 'Notch' entered, after surrendering his holster.

"So, newbie, what can I do for you?"

"I need to get out of the city."

"Heh, tired of being the first to charge, huh? Getting out of the city isn't easy you know. It cost money to get a gate pass. You've got a friend who's a guard, right? Why not ask her?"

"Firstly, she doesn't have authorisation to leave the city. Second, I doubt we're still friends, on account of the small matter of me accidentally killing a Shinra employee in front of her. I'm now wanted by the Shinras. So, legitimate threat enough for you?"

"What the_ fuck? _Why'd you do that_?"_

"Like you said, I'd gotten sick of being fodder, so I tried to get arrested. It backfired. So now, I need help. Interested?"

"Can you think of a reason why I shouldn't just hand you over to the Shinra if they come looking for you?"

"They won't care _that _much about me. And if you help me out with this, I'll be your man from now on, heart and soul, Don."

_Oh, you clever fucker. You know I like building an entourage._

"You say that now, but would you change your mind if Jimmy glares at you next week?"

"I won't be able to even if I want to. A betrayal like that, my reputation would never recover from. No one would ever trust me again. You know that."

_...True. But there's an even shot I'll just hand you over to the Shinras. Impressive that you didn't just cut and run._

"Okay, then. I'll help you, disturbingly worded though that promise was. But, only because I put you in your position in the first place. Getting someone out of the city, hunted by Shinra, is not easy to do, so I'm going to hold that over your head for the rest of your life."

'Notch' suddenly smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing. I accept."

"Fine. What do you know about Chocobos?"

"They're expensive, noisy and vicious?"

"Perfect. Be downstairs in an hour. I can tell you're going to have fun with this."

The truck rattled to a stop. Notch stretched. It'd been a long journey, wrapped up in the back of a shipment of steel fence posts. Given that there were no manufactories in lower Sector Six, Don (not _the _Don) must have pulled some serious strings. Or blackmailed the guy who ran the weapon shop.

The journey alone was educational. Automotives were rare in the slums, on account of choking fumes hugging the plate, but the sounds from outside...At first, there was the usual dried packed earth, but the sound changed somehow the further they went, become softer, like they were travelling on carpet. It was odd.

The doors opened. Notch stepped behind the posts.

"We're here, you can come out." He stepped out. And screamed, arms flying up to cover his head.

"Slums? That's going to be a problem..."

"Yeah? Well here's another problem. I know why Pride of Wutai didn't win the Silver Cup last month, and I know Dio lost 50K on that race."

"...Fine, bring him in."

Still shading his face, Notch glanced down. "Is it okay to step on this?"

"It's grass, dude. It practices non-violence."

Notch duly stepped on the green carpet. "This feels weird..."

"Oh, God, you sent me some kid who's never left Midgar. What the fuck am I supposed to do with him?"

"Whatever you like!"

"Slum kids are high maintenance, I'm not running a shelter here."

"Yeah, but they're tough fuckers. Why not try him out and see?"

A pair of sunglasses bounced off Notch's chest. After putting them on, he could lower his arms without flinching.

"You'd better get inside. Welcome to the Chocobo Farm, lackey."

Choco Bill (seriously, that was the name he gave) was quick to usher his newest employee into the barn, either as concern for his wellbeing or a desire not to have a gang fugitive seen on his farm.

"Guess I'd better keep you indoors for the moment. What's your name?"

"...Eric."

"Okay then, Eric, there's three things you need to know if you're going to stay here long. One, we're going to have to hide you from visitors. If I'm found sheltering a Shinra fugitive there'll be hell to pay. Two, Chocobos look nice, but three foot serrated talons fucking hurt. This is NOT an empty warning; if a Battle charger swipes at you, you'll be lucky to break bones. So keep your mind on what you're doing. Thirdly," –he reached into a drawer set into the wall of the barn, withdrawing a whip with multiple strands and three inch barbs, ", this is called a Six-tail. We can't use it on the birds any more, animal cruelty regulations, you know. A skilled operator can remove a fair patch of someone's skin before they finish, I once had a med-student in here tell me she could see and identify most of the internal organs by the time I was done."

Eric sighed internally. He was truly getting sick of being threatened, directly or not.

"My granddaughter will be working with you. I expect you to act with due courtesy. If I find a single look I don't like, or bruise she can't explain, there will be consequences."

"Look, Bill, I happen to work for the Corneos. I'm not _Don _Corneo, and unless the future is really fucked up, I never will be. All his high rankers are dead, and after what happened to him, we're the most celibate clan in the city right now! You've nothing to worry about, believe me."

"I'll be watching."

"Be my guest."

_Seriously, how stupid does he think I am?_

_Stupid enough to kill a Shinra Employee in front of a Grunt._

_...Fair comment._

Bill stared at him for quite a while, then looked down. "Fine. Chole!"

A younger girl stepped out from a Chocobo stall. "Hi."

"Any questions, ask her. I'll be watching." Bill walked to the opposite end of the barn, not bothering to hide that he was keeping a close eye on them.

"So they didn't call you 'Choco Chole'? I'm surprised."

"You get the name after an initiation ritual, after you prove yourself a master of the 'Way of the Chocobo'."

"You're making that up."

Her teeth flashed. "Maybe."

From his position near the door, Bill's stare sharpened. " Chole! Be careful! You don't know where he's been!"

"It's fine. I raised most of these birds by hand, If I give the order they'll tear him to shreds."

_Well, that explains that. I did wonder why he didn't ankle bracelet me or something._

After a moment, Bill left the barn. Chole handed Notch a hay fork from a rack.

"You and me are the boring menial labourers, we do the grunt work. Which, for now, means cleaning out the empty stalls. Come on, let's go."

"Should be fun." He took off his sunglasses. "I guess it's time..." -he redonned them- "to _get to work_."


	15. Heating Up

**Heating Up**

Notch screamed. Chole reached over, easily batting aside a flailing hand, and peeled skin from his forehead like wallpaper. Trying to scramble away, the rehomed Corneo enforcer winced as his sunburned back scraped across his scratchy bed of hay. Toppling from the hayloft, he landed on his back on the floor of the stable, and sneezed.

Chole eyed him. "You're not adapting very well, are you? You were outside for five minutes on an overcast day, and you're shedding like a Kalm Fang at spring moult."

"I'll...manage." said the subject of this observation, between sneezes. He had quickly learned that leaving Midgar was more than a matter of being snuck into the back of a truck.

It wasn't that he hadn't been expecting differences, and dangers, but in all the stories he'd heard about the world beyond the gates, no one had ever mentioned that light, not condensed into lasers or directed by materia, but just normal light, could hurt. His nose had begun to run soon after his arrival, which had something to do with grass dust in the air. The day was blinding if he took off his sunglasses outdoors, and unexpected breezes on raw skin could cause violent twitches at inopportune moments.

Contrary to popular belief, there was such a thing as night in the Midgar slums. At certain times, Shinra turned off most of the floodlights in the lower plate to save energy. But Wall Market had been a place of neon signs and lit up windows, so Notch's night vision was not as good as it could have been. The muggy heat of the endlessly recycled slum air had been replaced by milder but tangible heat from sunlight that could be felt on the skin, the temperature dropping at night to shivering levels.

And Chole, Bill, and Billy didn't feel a thing. After much grumbling and beard stroking, Bill provided something like a dull grey grim reaper robe to wear out of doors, together with a surgical mask, gloves, and his sunglasses, which made moving outdoors more tolerable, if not exactly pleasant. The farm had had a few slum labourers before, it seemed, and Notch was able to begin work three days after his arrival.

His first surprise had been that there was no Mako Reactor on the premises. Anything that damaged the fertility of the local land threatened the quality of Bill's Chocobos, so the farmhouse and barns were lit and heated by wood and coal burning generators, with a couple of windmills and solar panels on the roof to take advantage of any good weather that came their way. There were no external power sources, as any lines that were laid would be chewed to pieces by monsters within a week.

The actual work, so different from anything in Midgar, was truly fascinating. Much of his time was taken up actively preventing certain kinds of plants from growing in the chocobo corral. The Chocobo farm was a tightly monitored, well run operation, devoted to creating high ranked, top quality racing birds, and their environments had to be kept as clean and ordered as possible. Taking care of passing travellers' birds was a sideline, mostly a charity operation because casual wanderers were often neglectful in their day to day care. If a Chocobo was brought in in particularly bad condition, Bill (or possibly Billy, it was easy to throw the wrong name at father and son.) could be reduced to incoherent rage.

Once he actually started working for his keep, the Farm became a lot more palatable. Chole was bafflingly, paranoia inducingly friendly from the beginning, helpful and eager to answer questions. Given the Corneo reputation, this was a little puzzling, but Choco Billy (the son?) was reassuringly overprotective, rarely moving out of view unless Chole was inside the house or gone hunting for new stock to bring in, while Bill was rarely seen outside the farmhouse, spending most of his time dealing with management or negotiating with customers. Notch was burnt, blistered, and bleeding from thorn scratches, but he was alive, which was more than he had any right to expect at the moment.

000000

Jimmy Demetrios, Don Corneo, leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. He'd finally gotten rid of the weak link in his chain of command. A shame that he'd just bolted like that, the kid was fast on his feet and not a bad survivor, but just wasn't seasoned enough. Appointing his replacement had been a struggle, with Dillon having roughly equal support in the clan, but Jimmy's nearest rival knew that an outright power struggle would be suicidal given the city's current conditions. Highfield's Civil Guard had quickly grown rebellious after being told to actually do something, and now the streets were once again clear of white uniforms. The only problem that remained was Shinra. After 'Notch' inexplicably murdered a Shinra employee on the trains, the guards became much more heavily armed and strict about who was travelling. Seven Massacci enforcers taking a circuit of the city had been arrested simply for taking the train to the slums. Two Corneos had similarly disappeared, having taken journeys for personal reasons.

All routes to and from the Plate were sealed. Which meant one thing.

Jimmy stood, and went to speak to his men.

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"You know, gang fighting is nothing like people think. Most of it's just politics; do enough favours for the locals so they don't sell you out, brutalise them enough that they do what you tell them. It's gotten messy as fuck lately because no one knows exactly how weak or strong the Corneos are, including us. We haven't been really tested in sixteen years." Notch paused. "You're not some kind of Shinra plant or something, are you?"

Chole smiled. "Witness Protection Programme." He dropped his hayfork, right hand twitching towards the holster he wasn't wearing before reigning himself in. "Really."

Blink. "Of course not, you idiot. My Dad runs this place." She took a step back, out of his immediate reach. _Better. Still...why so nice? Why?_

The stall rattled as a Chocobo threw an irritable kick through the bars. Chole jabbed with the handle of her fork, rapping the bird on the front of its beak until it retreated.

"Easy, girl. Trying to kill strangers is bad for your reputation, you know." Sideways glance. "You might want to keep away from this one."

"Yeah?"

"Reactor Explosion, tag no. 217. She's in heat at the moment, we've got to keep her in for a couple of weeks. Can't breed a bird without express permission from the owner."

"Racer?"

"Canyon stock. Agile, quick. The hens make better racers, overall, so more of them are bred. Means they get angry for a couple of weeks a year, though. If you're ever betting, watch for two birds nipping at each other. The jockeys will have to spend a lot of their time keeping the two apart, so they're not likely to win."

_Huh...I'll actually try to remember that._

" Chocobos are easier to manage than a lot of things −they don't lactate, and they're not born live, but they do have their headaches. Out of heat, you can only make'em breed by feeding special kinds of nut...but that causes em to go crazy, so you've got to be really careful not to get in the way."

"Tell me something...does anyone eat Chocobo?"

Chole stared at him, mute.

"...Uh...sorry I asked."

"Don't even think about it! This isn't a farm that slaughters; we breed quality racers, mostly for Dio−"

"Who?"

"Runs the Gold Saucer, big muscly guy. Sure, you can get a few restaurants that serve Chocobo, but not from racers. Most of the jockeys get much too attached, even when their ride gets too old to run. And anyway, once they're plucked and boned, pretty much all you get is tough, stringy thigh muscle, so it's all very expensive and wasteful. It's against the 'Way of the Chocobo', too."

"What? That's real?"

"Uh-huh. I'm a third level initiate, Dad's a grade 2 black master, and Grandad's a level three Gold. Rumour has it there's a Chocobo Sage up north started the whole thing."

"Chole. I don't want to crush dreams, but there is no old guy on the Northern Continent who flies around the world once a year giving materia to people he meets. It's. Not. True."

"If you want to think that, it's your loss."

He could only turn away, trying not to smile.

000000

Three bullet impacts came through the plywood door, ripping through Mepho, who sank to his knees. Jimmy knelt beside him.

"You okay?"

Bloody grin. "I'll live. Go get em, boss."

The door imploded. Jimmy caught the first bullet on his metal bracer, driving forward to pitch the nearest Fujeo enforcer out through a boarded up window. No glass −in Fujeo territory, that was too much luxury. His other hand snapped across to cave in the skull of another guard, and then he drew his guns.

At least thirty Fujeo rushed Don Corneo, causing him to retreat outside. Where, now that they were exposed, the other Corneos opened up on the pursuing mob with their automatic weapons. That done, two Corneo enforcers stepped inside, returning with a struggling figure, who Jimmy regarded.

"Don Emilio Fujeo. Where?"

The man smiled. "You'll never find him, and you're an idiot for trying. You'll have to shoot me."

"Suit yourself."

Bang.

000000

"The Great Sephiroth is being ridden by a Wutai Ninja today, folks, and neither of them look pleased about it. Wutai Pride is also in the running, making for an interesting line up."

"Sephiroth was raised here. Shinra funded, he's a good runner. Little violent, but he knows what to do."

"And they're off! Don Corneo is moving pretty quickly right from the start, but with Negative Equity, Karma from the Cosmos, and Angry Hooker on his tail, who can blame him? Sephiroth and Pride are a little behind, but they're moving smoothly and clearly in for the long haul, Corneo is slowing down already, by the looks of things, the guy riding him knows not to waste breath early on,

But it looks like Karma is about to catch up with him, which probably isn't a good thing at this stage. Corneo's a fighter though, he's not out of the running yet. Sephiroth has put on a burst of speed as Hooker tries to close, but− Oh, and he's given her a kick, and it looks like she's down for the count! Sorry girl, that's what happens when you close on a champion when he's in a mood! But he's broken stride, and suddenly Pride of Wutai is surging ahead, Sephiroth is trying hard but Karma is catching up with him too as they enter the final straight. Corneo and Equity are well out of the running by now, but neither has given up. Sephiroth is close, but it's going to be Pride of Wutai that takes the crown today, Pride that outlasted all the other contestants and the deserved winner of the Silver Cup. Join us after the break for reaction and analysis from our pundits."

"Dad bribes the commentators."

"I...see."

000000

Idly sitting on a swing, Don Dillon, left hand man of Don Corneo, rubbed his forehead. The Fujeo were striking in force, and Sector Five had proven indefensible. It'd always been a peripheral area of the Corneo sphere of influence, with nothing much of value there but Aeris' frustratingly well protected flowers, but the shattered road to sector six was an impassable bottleneck for any attacking force. Jimmy had for once chosen to take a break with that dressmaker who was always hanging around HoneyBee Manor these days, leaving defence of the approach to Dillon...who ultimately was not a man of action. He could handle himself competently, but not brilliantly.

Still, with Hell Houses and Whole Eaters being driven against them, the Fujeo would not easily break through to Corneo heartland. Two flying columns were buried in sector five, making trouble for the occupiers without staging a stand up fight. They were completely cut off, but gunshots echoing from the sector now and then gave evidence that they were still alive and working hard. Strategically, given the might of their opponents, the Corneos were doing well.

There was just one problem. That same shattered road was currently blocked to any other travellers... and something like that drew attention. It was a matter of time.

000000

Some time into his service, Notch was finally allowed to work with the birds themselves, after multiple lectures and dire warnings as to what would happen if he injured either himself or the birds (which, naturally, were the priority). He had arrived at the farm armed, but had surrendered the weapon on arrival, and now he was provided with a long barrelled, two handed shotgun, and a battle trained Chocobo called Breeze, one of the farm's own stock. Most Chocobo would flee from battle, but not these. Once she was satisfied that he would not shoot himself or break his collar bone from recoil firing the weapon, Chole took him out into the grasslands, mounted on her own bird, Bleed Or Cry. A client's mount had gone missing, and they had to find it before the owner came looking. This was the only reason he had been allowed to leave the farm at all.

The grasslands were dull and featureless, but Chole seemed to know where they were going, as did the birds. If in doubt, Notch had been instructed to give the command 'Home' and trust his mount to oblige.

"Tell me something...how does a two foot fence stop 600 kilo chargers from escaping?"

"Up to 1,000kg for the male cavalry mounts. And it doesn't, really, that's why we microchip them."

"You do that?"

"Of course, there's a thousand square miles of open grassland around the farm, if we didn't we'd never find them."

"Then why do they stay?"

"They're well cared for here, and they know it. You pick up a wild bird, it bolts the first chance it gets, but not if it knows we have a stable waiting for it. Most of the time. The really wild ones we keep in the barn until they break."

Chole glanced groundward mid sentence, and her mount stopped, close to a large taloned footprint.

"We're close. Catch."

He caught the glass ball she threw at him. "What's this?"

"Chocobo Lure Materia. I've already got one equipped, but it's supposed to be lucky. There's slots in the handle of your shotgun."

"How do I use it?"

"You don't. Now, make some noise. Just shout. Anything."

"This is a diversion!"

Something fast and angry burst out of long grass. Surprising himself, Notch levelled his weapon and fired, but the blur didn't slow, leaping and bearing him from his saddle. Landing hard on his raw skin, he screamed as jaws closed on the weapon in the weapon in his hands, trying to rip it free.

"Fire3!" Heat washed over both him and the Kalm Fang from a nearby detonation, diverting the monster's attention enough that Notch could force it backward. Landing just past his feet, the creature sprang again.

Breeze's beak impacted behind the Fang's shoulder joint, momentum enhanced strike tearing the target in half in a burst of arterial spray. Spitting tufts of fur, the mount folded its wings again and docilely waited to be remounted as Notch climbed to his feet.

Her own attacker ashes, Chole looked down at him.

"Well, we've caught a Chocobo. Luckily, our client is an idiot, he'll never know the difference. So...do you miss Midgar yet?"

Notch spat grass. "Right now? No. Give me another couple of weeks."


End file.
